


Raid

by Zethsaire



Series: Can't Keep Me Down [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura Hale, Alpha Peter Hale, Alpha Stiles, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Asexual Derek, Asexual Relationship, BAMF Stiles, Canon Het Relationship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cutting, Demisexual Isaac, Established Relationship, Evil Peter Hale, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Isaac Lahey Feels, M/M, Marking, Mating Bond, Minor Character Death, Multi, Off-screen Canon Character Death, Oral Sex, Pack Dynamics, Past Child Abuse, Peter does not resurrect, Post Season/Series 02, Rape/Non-con References, References to Abuse, Rimming, Scent Marking, Scenting, Slow Build, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Wolf Pack, Wolfsbane, trans relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-15 17:52:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zethsaire/pseuds/Zethsaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles kills Peter and becomes an Alpha without being turned, Derek has to find a way to train him while protecting his own pack.</p><p>Mostly canon through Season 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The One You Feed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/647174) by [KouriArashi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KouriArashi/pseuds/KouriArashi). 



> This is my first Teen Wolf fanfic, so I'm still getting a handle on the characters and their personalities. This is a canon divergence AU; the specifics are explained below. Some change in character and personality would probably occur, since their experiences have been slightly altered. I tried to keep them all in character as much as possible. If you feel something is wildly out of character, feel free to let me know!
> 
> Headcannon for this AU - Mostly cannon continuity through Season 2, except Peter gained Alpha status by killing a rival pack's Alpha, he never died at the end of Season 1 and remained a villain through Season 2. Laura Hale is alive, and mated into another pack, making Derek an Alpha, as the last one of the Hale line. Derek did not come back to Beacon Hills, so he has also been absent during the events of Season 1 and 2; Peter has been the major plot driver, instead of Derek. Everything else will pretty much be explained in-story.
> 
> Note on OC's - yes, there are 2 transgendered characters in this fic; however, they have a very small role and their sexuality is not mentioned. They *will* feature heavily in the sequel. I was going to try to work it into the plot for this fic, and it just doesn't work. However, I will keep the tags, because their gender does play a large part in their character concepts and personalities, and it is important to me to have that sort of thing tagged. My apologies to anyone who was looking forward to seeing them in this fic.

Raid

“What the hell is going on?” Derek snarled at the invasion of his home, by Argents, no less. Isaac, his second, stood beside him, teeth bared in warning. The rest of the pack fanned out behind him, shifted and angry.

“We brought you something.” Chris Argent, current head of the family, gestured to his minions, who pushed a teenage boy out in front of them. He was bound with silver plated chains, his skin blistering and bleeding under them. He had a bit gag in his mouth, and his teeth were sharp and angry around the bar, gums cracked and bleeding.

Argent kicked his legs out from under him, and he collapsed by Derek's feet. When the kid looked up at Derek, his eyes flashed red. Derek stared at him. The kid smelled – human. And yet he was an Alpha. Definitely an Alpha. Just seeing his eyes flash made Derek's hackles rise, and he fought the urge to rip the kid's throat out.

“What did you _do_ to him?” Derek snarled. “If this is some kind of hunter experiment, you can consider our truce terminated.”

“We didn't do this, Derek,” the hunter spat out. “If you actually spent any time in Beacon Hills, you'd know that.”

“I watch my territory as much as it's required.”

Once a year, between the Harvest and Hunter's moons, his pack returned to Beacon Hills to maintain a strong werewolf presence there, and deter other werewolves from moving in on the old Hale territory. He had a truce with Argent; the hunters left Derek's pack alone when they were in town, and Derek didn't interfere with any hunting they did during the rest of the year, in his absence. Neither side was completely happy with the arrangement, but it worked well enough.

They'd been back in town for all of a day, and true to fashion, instead of actually telling him anything, the Argents were pushing a confrontation. Derek glared down at the not-quite-Alpha in front of him, his mouth pulling back into a snarl. The other Alpha's eyes flared red, and he bit down on the gag, blood streaming out of his mouth as he tried to snarl back at Derek.

“Clearly,” the hunter said dryly. “We caught him two nights ago.”

Derek looked up sharply. “Why didn't you kill him?” The Argents claimed to have a code, and he'd seen Chris put down his own hunters when they broke it. One way or another, they managed to make their code fit the job, because the clan of hunters generally killed anything supernatural that wandered into Beacon Hills in Derek's absence, and presented him with a careful record of what they'd done when he came by for his yearly inspection.

“He's not a werewolf, but he's an Alpha. There's at least one beta running around that follows him, but we didn't catch him. The Alpha let us catch him so the other one could get away. Does that sound like normal werewolf behavior to you?”

“No.” Derek gritted his teeth. They weren't going to kill a human kid, who, by the smell of him, couldn't be twenty yet. He was all gangly, unfinished limbs and rounded cheeks, even if his eyes were hard and dangerous. That made this whole mess his responsibility. At least the full moon had passed; the Argents must have kept him locked away for that.

“I'll take care of it,” he said. “We'll find his pack. I'll – we'll take care of it.”

Argent nodded. “We'll leave this to you then.”

One of the other hunters reached down and removed the silver chains, revealing that the boy was bound with rope underneath, enough to hold him in his exhausted state. They left the gag in place, and left, slamming the door behind them.

“Erica, Boyd. Go track down his pack. Explain the situation to them, and bring them back here. Try to convey how disgraceful it is that they let their Alpha take the fall for them,” Derek said, disgusted. Though he wasn't a real Alpha, was he? Maybe the instinct to protect wasn't strong enough when the Alpha was human. Derek snarled. He seriously didn't want to deal with this bullshit.

His two betas left, leaving him and Isaac alone with the Alpha. Isaac looked to Derek for permission before moving in and taking the gag off. The knot was so tight against his head that Isaac had to slash through it with a claw. He was careful not to touch the silver plated bit as he tossed the entire disgusting thing in the trash.

The Alpha spat a mouthful of blood onto Derek's floor, and glared up at him. His teeth were still extended, eyes red, but his face hadn't changed shape at all, his hands still human shaped, fingernails blunt and useless. Maybe he couldn't change all the way. Hell, he shouldn't be able to change at all.

“Who are you? How did you get like this?” Derek snarled.

The Alpha didn't say anything. He locked his jaw together and just growled at him.

“Isaac. You used to go to school here. Do you know him?”

Isaac hunched down and stared at the Alpha, reaching out to tangle his fingers in the Alpha's short hair and dragging his face up. Isaac had been the first addition to Derek's pack – Derek had turned him when the boy was fourteen, tracking down the scent of hurt and pain and desperate loneliness. After an inspection of the house, Derek had decided to take Isaac with him even if he didn't want the bite, away from his father and the scratched-up freezer in the basement.

“Stilinski,” Isaac said, after a moment. “Stiles Stilinski. He's the Sheriff's son.”

The Sheriff's son. Wonderful. Derek wondered if Argent had known that when they'd kidnapped the kid two nights ago. There were probably search parties out for him. Because that's really what Derek needed, being arrested by human police for kidnapping a possible minor.

“Isaac?” The kid–Stiles—croaked. “Isaac Lahey? You're a werewolf?”

Isaac grinned a feral smile that was all teeth. “Derek turned me four years ago.”

“And...Erica and Boyd? Are all the Beacon Hills runaways werewolves?”

Derek motioned for Isaac to continue talking. He'd force it out of the kid if he needed to, but if he was talking to Isaac willingly out of some imagined camaraderie brought on by their respective ages, well, Derek wasn't going to let that opportunity pass.

“We picked up Erica the year after me. You know she almost died from epilepsy, right? She wanted the bite more than I did. Boyd's the newest, he joined just last year. He didn't have anyone else who wanted him, but we did.” Isaac let Stiles' head go, and then laid down on the floor so he could continue giving him that half-cocked stare that he did so well.

“What about you, Stiles?”

Stiles' gaze hardened, and he looked up at Derek. “Can we talk alone?”

“No,” Derek cut in. “I'm not leaving an Alpha alone with anyone in my pack.” Even a freaky little Alpha like Stiles.

“He'd hear you anyway,” Isaac said, tapping the side of his head next to his ear. Derek had gotten used to Isaac's quirks over the years, but Stiles was looking at him like he was more than a little crazy. Isaac came off as fairly unstable, but he was Derek's second for a reason. He knew what he was doing.

Stiles glared again, but finally opened his mouth. “I don't know what happened, okay? It's not like I'm an expert at this crazy werewolf stuff, okay? Shit happened. My best friend got turned by this crazy Alpha, and then people were dying all over the place, and we came up with this crazy ass plan, and it actually _worked_. I landed the killing blow instead of Scott; we figured it was safer that way, right? Humans can't become Alphas.”

“Except you did,” Isaac said, tracing one finger along Stiles' eyebrows, above his glowing eyes.

“Yeah. Except that. And then Allison's crazy ass father decided we're all a threat now, and I had to let Scott and Jackson get away because he doesn't know who they are yet, and now I'm here with you psychos, and would you _stop touching me!_ ” The last bit came out as a roar, and Isaac scrambled away from him to hide behind Derek's legs as the Alpha in Stiles asserted his authority.

Derek roared back at him. This was his place and his territory, and Isaac was his beta. And even though he'd somehow managed to become an Alpha, Stiles was scrawny next to Derek's bulk, and he had just risen to rank less than a week ago. Derek had been leading a pack for the last four years, and had survived on his own for years before that.

Stiles wilted, and Derek almost felt bad for him. He was probably exhausted, and even if the Argents hadn't killed him, they'd probably tortured him, and who knew how much of the healing factor Stiles had been gifted with this extremely unorthodox change?

“You're in my territory, which makes you my responsibility. Will you call your pack here, and let me untie you and handle this civilly? Or are you going to make me track them down and beat them bloody myself?”

“Your territory? Tell that to the crazy Alpha who's been terrorizing the place for the last six months.”

“It's the Hale family territory. We've held it for generations. I still come around once a year to establish a claim; the Argents are supposed to deal with anything else while I'm gone.”

Stiles gave him a dark glare at the mention of his last name. “Yeah. They did a real bang up job. Let a bunch of innocent people get killed, let Scott and Jackson get turned against their will, tried to kill me. So glad you picked such responsible people to look out for the place while you were gone.”

Derek contemplated digging the gag back out of the trash. “Will you call your pack here or not?”

“Yeah. Yes. Fine. Just get me out of this. And let me borrow someone's phone. You _do_ have a phone, don't you?”

“Yes, I have a phone.” This wasn't the middle ages. He had an older model phone; nothing fancy, just serviceable enough to make calls. All his betas had smartphones, and he didn't begrudge them, but he preferred cheaper models.

He hauled Stiles to his feet, and held back a flinch when he brushed the ropes they'd bound him with. They'd been soaked in wolfsbane. Isaac brought him a chair from their dining room, covered in plastic so the blood wouldn't stain the wood. He put Stiles down and sliced the ropes off of him. Isaac held out the same trash bag that had the bit gag in it, and Derek tossed the ropes into it.

“You know what to do with that,” he told his second, and Isaac nodded, taking it away. He'd take it down to the basement and bury it. It was bad enough having the Argents have things that could hurt them without throwing them in the public trash for anyone to find.

Stiles was flexing his stiff hands, trying to get blood to flow back into them. When it looked like he had decent control over his movements back, Derek handed him his cellphone. Then he sat down in a chair across from him and glowered at Stiles while he contacted his pack.

“What is this, a grandpa phone? Does this thing even text? How _old_ are you?”

Derek just stared at him, until he started sending off texts, still grumbling under his breath. He tossed the phone back at Derek's face. “There, it's done. Happy?”

“No.” He wasn't going to be happy until this whole thing was done with and he was back in San Francisco, away from the smell of fire and betrayal.

Stiles slumped back in the chair, folding his arms defensively against his chest. “Well good. Because I'm not happy either. Stiles is _not_ happy.”

“That's great Stiles. No one cares.” He got the feeling this was going to be a _very_ long night.

Isaac came back before any of Stiles' pack arrived. He lounged by the front door, waiting, having already texted Boyd and Erica on Derek's orders. They were to circle around to Derek's house, and wait to see if they would be needed to force Stiles' pack to stand down. Derek had little doubt that his pack could take Stiles' – they were older and stronger, and Derek had been an Alpha for a lot longer, but he'd like to avoid bloodshed if possible. He didn't like killing his own kind; too many other things did that on their own.

A strong beta wolf arrived first, impulsive and angry. He broke down the door to get to Stiles, snarling at Isaac and Derek as he rushed to Stiles' side. He ignored Derek's angry exclamation over his door. This must be Stiles' second.

“Stiles! Are you okay? What's going on?” The boy snarled at Derek again. “Did they do this to you?”

Stiles sighed. “Scott, this is Derek Hale. He's an Alpha, Isaac is his beta. Derek, this is Scott. I didn't turn him, but he's in my pack now, I guess. I really don't know that much about any of this.”

“Hale?! Is he related to Peter? Is he the one who did this to you?” Scott sounded even more concerned now.

“What about my uncle?” Derek asked.

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, when the rest of his pack arrived. A girl and a boy he didn't know – the boy was a werewolf – tall, blonde and built, and the girl had waving strawberry blonde hair, and looked pissed. The other girl he did know – Argent's daughter, Allison. What the hell was a hunter doing in a pack? She brought her bow, and it wasn't hard for Derek to smell the wolfbane rubbed into the arrow shaft.

It was a tense moment. Boyd and Erica came up behind the three from Stiles' pack, fully shifted and snarling. Isaac was between Derek and the three in the door, and Scott looked like he was going to go for Derek's throat. Allison's bow was up, arrow nocked and pointed directly at Isaac's heart.

Derek looked at Stiles, both their eyes flashing. “Chill out, guys.”

Stiles' pack looked at him like he was insane. Derek sighed, and said to his own pack, “Stand down.”

His own pack was extremely unhappy, but did as he asked, and shifted back to their human forms. Isaac backed up until he was standing directly in front of Derek, chest to back, shielding Derek from Allison's arrows.

“C'mon guys, you're embarrassing me. I'm already a shitty Alpha as it is, don't make it worse,” Stiles said, elbowing Scott sharply.

Scott grimaced, but shifted to his human form. He looked at Allison, who lowered her bow begrudgingly. The blonde werewolf didn't shift back at first, until the strawberry blonde girl kicked him in the shin, and he took a long moment to shift back. Apparently Stiles wasn't the only new werewolf. If it came to a fight, Derek's pack would rip them apart.

“Boyd, Erica, come here,” Derek said, and leaned back in his chair, giving at least the appearance of peace.

They came inside, Boyd standing on his left, one hand digging into the back of the chair. Erica draped herself on his right, head on his shoulder, arm on his chest. Derek spread his legs slightly, and Isaac sat in between them, one hand coming up to tangle into Derek's hair, his eyes never leaving Allison's bow.

“Wow. I hope you don't expect us to be that close,” Stiles said, still obviously shaken.

“Wolves are tactile creatures. Normally a pack gets very physically comfortable with each other,” Derek said evenly. “It is not my intention to harm you or your pack, Stiles. But since I can see that things have been...interesting in my absence, perhaps we could all sit down and just talk about it.”

“Talk? Yeah. I'm good at talking. Yep, that's me, king of talking.”

“Stiles,” the strawberry blonde said sharply. She looked like she was going to continue talking when Allison kicked her. This was going to be a disaster.

“None of you have any idea how a real werewolf pack is supposed to behave, do you.”

Scott was the one who answered. “Not...really. Mostly we've just been trying to stay alive.”

“Just...sit down. And Allison, put that bow away before you give Isaac a complex. Your father was the one who brought Stiles here; we're not going to hurt him unless you make us.”

There were looks all around after that little bit of information, but Allison finally un-nocked her arrow and put it back in her quiver. She set both the quiver and bow by the door, and came over to sit by Scott. Isaac relaxed, letting himself fall bonelessly against Derek's chest, his eyes now on Stiles. His second was fiercely protective, even more than the rest of his pack, and Isaac would face any threat, even an Alpha, for Derek.

“Now you should all sit down, and Stiles should introduce you,” Derek instructed, already feeling weary from having to basically direct the entire meeting.

“I'm perfectly capable of introducing myself,” the strawberry blonde interjected.

“And that reflects badly on Stiles, as an Alpha. It makes him look weak. Which he already does, because he has a human and a hunter in his 'pack,'” Derek explained. “If I'd been a rival Alpha deciding whether to kill you or not, you'd all be dead by now.”

“Just come here, Lydia. Please?” Stiles asked, more than a little desperately.

Lydia frowned, but came over and sat daintily at Stiles' feet, with the blonde werewolf following moodily behind her. He sat down beside her, his arm protectively around her shoulders. So neither of the werewolves in Stiles' pack had a werewolf mate. Wonderful.

“So um. This is Scott, and Allison – they're dating. And this is Lydia, and the scowly douchebag behind her is Jackson.”

“This is Isaac Lahey, my second,” Derek said between gritted teeth, determined to at least get the formal greeting done according to werewolf tradition, even if he knew everything was going to break down after that. “Vernon Boyd, and Erica Reyes.” He gestured to each of them.

“Shit. So I was right – all of Beacon Hill's runaways _are_ werewolves,” Stiles said excitedly.

“Please. Just – tell me what the hell happened in my territory while I was gone?”

“Right. Talking. Yeah, yeah I'm good at that,” Stiles confirmed again.

It took several hours of Stiles talking non-stop, often being interrupted by Scott, who tried to spin things in a more positive light, or Lydia, who clarified some specific term or vague concept that Stiles blundered through, or by Allison, when a more specific explanation of hunter or werewolf customs was needed. Jackson stayed quiet through most of it, his hand tightening on Lydia's shoulder, especially when they explained how he'd become the kanima after he was bitten.

When they finally finished, Derek summarized, “So my uncle, who somehow recovered from his hideous wounds and became an Alpha without my knowing it, tried to take over my territory by forcibly turning Scott and Jackson and potentially other teenagers who did not survive, used Jackson to murder the people he deemed responsible for killing our family, and then was finally killed by Stiles, who somehow became an Alpha after landing the final blow?”

Stiles looked awkwardly around at everyone, and scratched the back of his head. “Um. Yeah, that pretty much covers it.”

“And exactly _how_ did you all survive this?”

“We look out for each other,” Scott said. “I tried to keep everyone safe. Stiles helped plan things; did research, tracked down clues. Lydia brought Jackson back. Allison got information from her dad, and is a hell of a shot. Jackson helped us take down Peter, when Lydia brought him back.”

“You're a pack.”

“Yeah.”

“But Scott's more the Alpha,” Stiles cut in. “I mean, if anyone had to be an Alpha. I mean technically Peter was Scott and Jackson's Alpha, but Scott was the one we all listened to. The one we trusted, I mean.”

“You were part of a pack when you killed an Alpha,” Derek said. “I've never heard of it happening that way before but...there were humans in my pack. Several of the werewolf families have humans in them. They just don't kill Alphas. I don't think it's ever happened before. If a human kills a werewolf, it's because they're a hunter.” He looked pointedly at Allison. “Not a werewolf.”

“Stiles excels at being a fuck-up,” Jackson offered, flinching when Lydia elbowed him in the gut again.

“I hate you,” Stiles hissed.

“Well this has all been _incredibly_ enlightening. Stiles, can you shift your teeth back to normal?”

“Uh. No? I don't think so.”

“Fine. Then you're going to have to stay here until we can get you back to normal.”

Stiles and Scott both looked like they were going to protest, so Derek barreled through. “Unless you want to explain why you look like that to every single person in town?” Their mouths closed.

“Are you minors? Is there a search party out for you, or can you just call your father and let him know you're okay without getting me arrested?”

“We're all over eighteen,” Stiles said quickly. “Well, Lydia's birthday is in a couple months; she's only seventeen right now. But she's way smart so, she's basically over eighteen. And uh. Scott told my dad I've been at his place for a few nights. So. Hopefully no search parties.”

“Call him then, and let him know you're going to be staying here. Whatever you have to say, just do it. The rest of you can go.”

“I'm not leaving Stiles here by himself!” Scott protested immediately, like Derek knew he would.

“Fine. You can stay too, then. But not the others.”

Scott's jaw tightened.

“It's not up for discussion. I'm not having a hunter, an underage girl, or an out of control werewolf stay the night. You're over eighteen and I'm marginally convinced you can last the night without making me want to rip your throat out.”

“Fine.” Stiles' pathetic pack stood, Scott pulling Allison into an embrace. “I'll call you.”

“Be careful,” she whispered, and then she, Lydia and Jackson left. Scott stepped out onto the porch to call his mother, and Stiles was already arguing with his dad in heated tones. Derek turned to his pack and said,

“Boyd, Isaac, go make up a bed for Scott and Stiles, please.”

The hand in his hair tightened. “Make Erica go. I don't want to leave you with him.”

“I'll be fine, Isaac. Make sure the beds are comfortable for humans – I doubt they sleep like pack.”

Isaac looked unhappy, but stood up regardless. “Are there still mattresses stored in the spare room?”

“Yes. Set them up in the master bedroom. I want them close enough to keep an eye on.”

“Alright.” He and Boyd headed upstairs to prepare the room.

Erica slid into his lap in Isaac's absence. She rubbed her cheek against his and sighed. “They're not very _good_ at being werewolves, are they.”

Derek rubbed back, running a hand across her hair absently. “They haven't had anyone to teach them. Peter didn't even ask if they wanted the bite; he just turned them and left them. Since he's dead, that makes them my responsibility now. We'll have to teach them.”

“What about the humans?”

Derek grimaced. “I'm more concerned about Stiles at this point. We figure out how to get him human again, or how to control his abilities if we can't, and make sure the other two betas can actually function as werewolves and then...then we'll go from there.” They were going to have to find a pack for them, or Derek was going to have to take them in. He'd been meaning to expand, but all his previous pack additions had been spur of the moment – taking in others who were hurting and needed pack. And he'd only ever took in one at a time; he wasn't looking forward to potentially trying to merge two packs together, especially since Stiles' pack barely functioned as a pack at all.

Stiles reappeared, fumbling with Derek's phone and almost dropping it. “He uh, well, he's not happy. But I talked him into not sending a squad car out after me, at least.”

“Yeah, my mom thinks I'm staying the night at Jackson's.”

“Dude, why would we ever stay over at Jackson's?”

“Do you want her calling your house and finding out you're not there?”

“Right.” Stiles turned to Derek and said, “So...where are we sleeping? Because I'm exhausted.”

“You'll feel that way until the wolfsbane and the silver works its way out of your system. You should be alright; it just got on your skin, instead of a penetrating wound. Take a cold shower and wash it off – not hot, or it will get in your pores and poison you, and I really don't feel like dealing with that right now. Master bedroom is at the top of the hall all the way down on the left. You should heal by tomorrow, and then we can see about getting your powers under control.”

“Freeze my ass off in the shower, sleep until the magical wolf healing kicks in. Got it.” Stiles took off in the direction of the bathroom, before turning around again.

“Bathroom's that way.” Erica pointed.

“Heh. Thanks.”

Derek stood and walked to the front of the room, pulling his door up off the floor and setting it mostly back into place. It'd have to do until tomorrow. He'd make Scott fix it, if the kid had any idea how to do repairs. Then he headed upstairs to his bedroom, with Erica beside him and Scott following cautiously behind.

Isaac and Boyd had set up two mattresses side by side, against the wall closest to the exit of the room, allowing for the two foreign pack members to be as far away from Derek's bed as possible and still remain in the room. They were waiting for him in their own bed – a pile of blankets, pillows and quilts deep enough to sleep on comfortably, spread out across the floor so they could lounge together.

Boyd had stripped down to his boxers, but Isaac was in a pair of loose sleeping pants and a white tanktop. He had serious intimacy issues, and even if they usually slept naked together at night, it was clear that none of them were comfortable doing that with outsiders around. Derek didn't like it either, but he wasn't going to let Stiles out of the house, and he wasn't going to not sleep with his pack, either. He stripped off his own shirt and stepped out of his pants, heading over to bed.

“I'll be back in a few minutes,” Erica whispered. “I'm going to go dig out something to wear.”

“You can sleep naked if you're more comfortable,” Derek said, ignoring the strangled noise Scott made.

“No,” Boyd said. His expression was unreadable, but Erica just shrugged.

“Boyd doesn't like to share outside the pack.”

Derek bit back another sigh and lay down in the center of his bed, Boyd curling up against his back, and Isaac pressing himself against Derek's chest, his leg sliding between Derek's own, pulling Derek's arms down around him and nuzzling against his chest. Derek breathed in their scents, comforting and ground against the stress of the day.

Scott looked like he was going to explode. “You guys seriously sleep like that?”

“Normally wolves like to be close to their Alpha,” Derek said dryly.

“ _That_ close?”

“In a well functioning pack,” Derek confirmed.

Boyd reached around Derek to lay a hand on Isaac's side. Erica came in a few minutes later, wearing a pair of Isaac's boxer briefs and Boyd's shirt, before laying down so she could snuggle against Boyd, but also trace Derek's legs with her feet.

“Turn the light out and go to bed, Scott.”

“O-okay. As long as Stiles and I don't have to do that.”

Derek didn't bother to tell him that with Stiles' new instincts, they'd probably be tangled up together in the morning. All werewolves needed touch, and Alphas needed it from their pack the most. It was instinct – it was in their nature to be tactile, pack creatures. Touch deprivation was one of the reasons wolves turned omega.

Stiles stumbled in not long after that, hissing, “Dude, why are the lights out?” before practically falling into bed. He was asleep within minutes.

Erica fell asleep next, and Boyd some time after that. It took almost an hour before Scott's breathing evened out into sleep, leaving just Derek and Isaac awake. Isaac ran his hand down Derek's arm and nuzzled more against his chest, seeking comfort he wouldn't ask for out loud. He was trembling.

Derek licked Isaac's ear reassuringly, and pressed his face into Isaac's hair. His hand tightened protectively on Isaac's hip, and he laced their other hands together. After that Isaac finally relaxed and fell asleep. Only then did Derek let himself embrace the comfort of his pack around him, and fall into an uneasy slumber of his own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since nobody's given a name to the Derek/Isaac/Stiles threesome, I decided to do it myself. It's called Halaski now. XD
> 
> Warnings for this chapter! - Isaac feels, self harm, mentions of child abuse, cutting, self destructive behavior, enabling, smoking. Think that about covers it! If any of these are triggers for you, you may want to skip this chapter. And if you need me to summarize for you, please message me on my tumblr! I'd be more than happy to help. Isaac will have more self-harm mentions in the future, but nothing as graphic as this chapter.
> 
> Beta'd as always by the lovely DangerousCommieSubversive!

Isaac

Isaac woke up screaming. He was completely wolfed out, his claws were tearing up the sheets and he'd probably kicked Derek hard enough to break his leg. Derek's arms were touching his shoulders gently – he knew better than to hold Isaac down when he was having nightmares - and his Alpha was talking to him in low, even tones, trying to bring him out of it without scaring him further.

“-to calm down, Isaac. It's alright,” Derek was saying, when he'd finally pulled himself together enough to actually pay attention.

“I'm okay,” he croaked out, his hands coming up to grip Derek's tightly. He was still shaking, but he was awake; aware. He wouldn't be falling back into the freezer the moment that Derek let go.

“I'm alright,” he said again, like he needed to hear it out loud. He knew he'd woken everyone up. He could feel Scott and Stiles staring at him, even though he refused to look at them.

Derek started nuzzling his hair gently, one hand moving to rub comfortingly down Isaac's neck. He shuddered, and latched onto Derek – his scent, his heartbeat, the comforting, solid weight of his Alpha at his back, until his fangs receded and his eyes turned back to normal. After a bit of gripping Derek's hands, his claws retreated as well.

“Are you going to be able to go back to sleep?” Derek asked him, the question barely a whisper of breath in Isaac's ear.

“No. I-I'm getting up.” They'd only been in bed for a couple hours, but Derek nodded at his statement, and let him go.

“Do you want me to -?”

“Go back to sleep,” Isaac murmured, licking along Derek's jaw. He wanted – he needed to be alone.

He got up and stalked past Scott and Stiles. He didn't look at them, or acknowledge their presence. It was pathetic; he was weak, terribly, horribly weak, and he'd displayed that weakness in front of not-pack. It was absolutely disgraceful.

He headed for his own room. He hardly ever used it, unless the nightmares were too bad, and he needed to curl up on his own. Usually Derek would come in and curl up with him, but there were some nights that he couldn't bear anyone's touch, not even his Alpha's.

He hadn't had an attack since they'd picked up Boyd, and he'd thought he was getting better. Even Erica had only seen him really freak out once or twice – nothing like the first year after Derek had turned him, when he'd literally clawed his way out of nightmares every single night, and even Derek's deepest Alpha voice hadn't been able to make him stop shaking from pure fear.

That whole first year he'd stank of fear. He could smell it on himself, just like he'd been able to when he'd been left in that box for hours and hours. Even a small scare would spiral into a complete breakdown, just from smelling the fear ooze out of his pores. Isaac didn't know why Derek had even put up with him, that first year.

Then, once they'd added Erica to the pack, Isaac had started getting better. In reality they'd been making slow and steady progress the whole year, but Isaac hadn't been able to see it, hadn't been able to get far enough away from it to see how much he'd changed. But with Erica, he'd had to step up, help Derek, be strong for his new packmate. He couldn't be scared all the time, because Erica was already scared enough. She put on a hell of a brave face, but he knew she was frightened, especially after her first full moon.

So he'd gotten better. Except not really, because he was really freaking out right now. He couldn't shake it this time. He reeked of fear, he could feel the sweat running down his back, sticking his shirt to his skin. Every time he blinked he could see the freezer lid, feel the cold seeping into his bones, hear his father screaming at him. The walls felt like they were closing in on him, the air was thick and cloying. He couldn't get out of his own head. He couldn't breathe.

In his room, under the piles of pillows and blankets and Derek's old shirts, was a rug, and under that was a trap door, with a dial lock on it. Isaac unlocked it, and pulled out an old, rugged metal fishing box. He flipped the lid open with trembling hands, and stared down at the best, and worst, way to clear his head.

Derek hadn't thought it was necessary, but Isaac had talked him into it eventually. He had no other way to stop the screaming in his head. He didn't know how else to deal with it; he'd never had any other way to deal with it. At least if he hurt himself he knew why it was happening. He was in control.

He picked everything he needed out of the box, and left it open on his bed. That had been the deal. If he was going to hurt himself, Derek wanted to know about it. So he left the box open, and went to the basement bathroom, and locked himself in.

He stripped off his sweat-soaked shirt and his pants and climbed into the old tub. He set the roll of gauze and the jar of ointment on top of a crate that sat next to the tub. Then he carefully removed the sharp razor blade from its plastic case. The edge was coated in mercury; it would cut and keep him from healing right away. It didn't leave scars, except for that one time he'd cut too deep in his leg and it had bled and bled and bled and Derek had had to put the stitches in himself. But he wasn't stupid like that any more. He knew how deep to cut. He'd known then too, he'd just figured that the wolf healing would compensate for that. But it was okay; he knew how deep to cut now. Everything was going to be okay.

The bite of the blade was like a bucket of cold water in the face. The pain – melted away all the horrible thoughts in his head. It burned, the deep, hot burn of mercury holding back his body's healing, as his wrist bled sluggishly, and he just sat there, watching it bleed.

The thoughts were still there, dark and swirling around the back of his mind. His anxiety and fear had ebbed, but he still felt like he might fly apart any minute. He cut again, and again, until both his wrists were lined with red slashes. Only then did he let the blade tumble from his fingers, and turned on the bath water as hot as it would go.

He sat there for hours—the hot water was ice cold and tinged pink by the time he finally pulled the drain out with his toes. He dragged himself out of the tub and shook off like a dog, before patting dry with a towel. He opened the ointment jar and slathered it on both his wrists, and up onto his left arm. Then he rolled the gauze up over his arms with practiced ease, tightening the end with his teeth. The razor went back in its plastic case, and he went back upstairs to his room and put everything back in the box, but didn't put the box back under his bed.

Then he dug around in the back of his closet until he found a gray and white long-sleeved hoodie. It was Derek's, though the Alpha had bought it for him—wearing it, working out in it until his sweat and scent was rubbed permanently into the material, and then he'd given it back to Isaac. He usually didn't need to wear it, but when he got bad like this, it was comforting to have Derek's scent around him even if he couldn't bear his Alpha's touch.

He pulled it on without an undershirt, Derek's scent rising up out of the cloth, even though it'd been sitting in the closet for a year. He brought up the hood and rubbed his cheek in it, letting Derek's scent calm him down. It was alright. He was safe. It was going to be okay.

He shimmied into a pair of jeans and then walked back down the steps and out onto the back porch. There was a lighter and a pack of cigarettes in the hoodie from the last time he was here. They were completely stale, but the nicotine was still good so he really didn't care. He lit one up, and curled up on the edge of the porch, one leg drawn up to his body with his arm wrapped around it, the other hanging over the railing to trail into the dirt. He rubbed his cheek in the hood and told himself he wasn't crying. He was Derek's second, for fuck's sake. He didn't cry.

There were footsteps on the floor behind him – Derek, because only Derek walked like that, smooth, graceful, a born werewolf who would always be more comfortable in his skin than any of them could ever hope to be. His Alpha sat down carefully beside him and lifted one arm, asking Isaac with a movement of his eyebrows if he was ready for this.

Isaac ground out his cigarette and lit another, before sliding over the three inches he needed to press his right side against Derek's left. Derek's arm wrapped around his shoulder, and Isaac laid his head down on Derek's collarbone, rubbing against his jaw with the top of his head, his cheek pressed into Derek's bare chest. After the rub of greeting, he adjusted slightly so he could keep smoking. Derek didn't particularly like the smell of smoke, but he was the one who chose to come out here before Isaac was done pulling himself together so really, it was his fault.

“I'm sorry I let them stay,” Derek said quietly, gently running his thumb over Isaac's shoulder in a soothing gesture.

“Not your fault.” Isaac shook his head vehemently. “I haven't been this bad in...a long time.”

“Can I help?”

“You are.” Isaac just needed time to pull himself together. A lot of time, apparently. And Derek's touch was welcome. He was calm enough for it now, for it to be a comfort and not a reminder.

Isaac smoked another cigarette before putting it out and not lighting another. He'd have to go buy more tomorrow; the stress of dealing with Stiles' pack wasn't going to go away any time soon. He'd probably start sleeping in his room too, if they were going to be staying. He could lock the door and curl up with Derek's old clothes and convince himself he was safe.

He tilted his head up towards Derek, because he knew Derek wouldn't initiate anything on his own, not when Isaac was like this. Isaac pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and Derek sighed. He opened his mouth and let Isaac slide his tongue inside, kissing him back with slow, comforting kisses of his own. Isaac climbed up into his lap, keeping his head tilted underneath Derek's, pulling Derek's arms up around him so he was literally surrounded by his Alpha. He shuddered and licked and the corner of Derek's mouth, before mouthing at his jaw and then pulling back, and baring his own throat.

Derek bit down on him possessively, understanding the desire to be marked, so that everyone would know who he belonged to. Isaac's wolf howled with joy when Derek used his teeth, driving into the flesh between his neck and his shoulder, claiming him in the same spot he always did, over and over until the mark would last all day. Then Derek licked carefully over the wound, apologizing wordlessly for the pain, and licked up his neck all the way to his jaw and then back into Isaac's mouth.

“Thanks,” Isaac said when they'd parted again.

“No problem. I like everyone knowing you're mine.”

“They probably won't understand.”

“Scott might – he has a girlfriend. Marking is instinctual.” Derek lapped gently at the dark bruise blossoming on Isaac's neck.

“They've never had an Alpha. I'm not sure the instincts even got passed on properly. I was a wreck when you first turned me – all that stuff took forever to sink in.”

Derek sighed. “I don't want this to take a long time. I want to go home.”

Home was San Francisco, and Derek's studio, and sculptures, and the Castro. And _Heat,_ the magazine that they both worked for, and their friends and colleagues. Home was the woods in Marin, behind the house they'd built, where they could run for hours in the preserve and leave the stress of humanity behind. Not here, in this horrible town, where hunters just ran around killing whoever they wanted with no supervision or balance. Where there was the lingering smell of fire and ash and death. Derek always smelled of pain and loss when they were here; it followed him around like a shroud. He was never happy when they were here, not really.

“Me too. But you can't leave them like this. And I – I don't want to take them with us.” He knew they would expand their pack eventually. They needed to – it was small and he could smell the longing on Derek sometimes, for more family. But not like this.

“We might have to. They don't have a real Alpha. And the Argent's are probably just waiting for them to fuck up so they can put them down without breaking our treaty. They won't be safe unless we take them in.”

“We can teach them,” Isaac said, a little desperately. “We can teach them to take care of themselves. And if there's a pack here, one you approve of than – than we won't even have to come here every year.”

Derek didn't comment on that. Instead, his hand traced softly down Isaac's arms, coming to rest over the bandages underneath. “Are you up to sparring today? I want you to test Stiles, see what his fighting capabilities are, measure his strength and speed and healing ability.”

“I-” Isaac set his jaw. He should be up for this. He'd fought Alphas before, to protect his pack, to protect Derek. But he'd never casually sparred with another Alpha. Derek did sometimes, with the other Alphas who's territories overlapped his in San Francisco, but they never asked any of the Betas to join in for their own safety.

“I can't trust his own second to really push him. Erica's too vicious, Boyd's not in control of his shifting enough yet. You're the fastest, you can keep your head in a fight, and you'll push him without killing him. I don't want to face him myself – not yet, not until we know if he can heal. I could seriously hurt him without even trying.”

"Yeah. I - I can do that." He said resolutely. "Good. Help me with breakfast?" Derek asked. "As long as you make extra bacon." Derek grinned as he pulled Isaac to his feet. "Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions, comments? Like the chapter? Let me know, it really helps inspire me to write! Look for updates weekly either Friday or Saturday until I finish writing the fic, then I'll probably update bi-weekly. It's half-written so far, so I'm making great progress. You guys have been so friendly and helpful! Seriously, awesome!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this now, because I'm too lazy to get up early tomorrow and post it. :P Also, holy crap you guys, 1500 pageviews in 2 weeks? I feel so loved!! Seriously. You've all been wonderful, and I hope you continue to like the fic!
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Language, violence, light gore. Mentions of self harm.

Chapter 3 

Stiles

Breakfast with Derek's pack was an exciting affair. The older Alpha had gotten up a few hours after Isaac had woken them all up with his tortured screaming. Stiles didn't know what was up with that and he didn't want to know. He had enough of his own nightmare material without adding anything else. 

He'd woken up tangled around Scott, which had been horribly awkward and embarrassing. They'd gotten through it like men - by pretending it hadn't happened. Once he'd gotten out of bed, the delicious smells of breakfast had lured him downstairs where he'd stared at the absolutely gargantuan amounts of food laid out on the table. 

Derek was at the stove, cooking even more bacon. Isaac was sitting at the table drinking a cup of coffee and munching on a slice of said bacon, watching Derek with a little half smile on his face. He looked better - well, no, okay he still looked terrible, but he looked happier at least. 

They both looked up when he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, though they must have known he was there long before that. Derek reached into his pocket and then tossed his phone at Stiles, who barely managed to catch it. 

"Call your pack. We're having breakfast."

"Uh... we are? All of us? Together?"

Derek got this pained look on his face. "Yes. Your pack lacks serious pack bonding, and eating food together is one of the best ways to fix that. Now tell them to get over here before the food gets cold."

Stiles took the phone and grumbled under his breath as he sent out a mass text. Stupid sourwolf. Just because he'd magically become the Alpha somehow didn't mean it was his fault that their pack was so fucked up. 

It turned out most of them were on their way anyway - something about him being in a house with strange werewolves and them not trusting him to behave. Totally uncalled for, by the way. Lydia said she'd make sure Jackson was there. So Stiles sat there awkwardly at the table watching Isaac eat, waiting. 

Scott ruined his attempted moment of serenity by thunking down the stairs, strolling into the kitchen and taking one look at Isaac before blurting,

"Holy shit! What happened to your neck?!" And people said Stiles had no brain-to-mouth filter. 

Isaac didn't look pissed though. He actually looked smug. "You really ought to know the answer to that." He had his claws out, and was staring at them with that creepy brow expression that he liked to do. 

Derek flipped the bacon over and then came over to put an arm around Isaac's shoulders and press a kiss to his forehead. "It means he's mine."

Scott looked like someone had hit him in the face with a shovel. 

"Oh," Stiles said. "Ooooooooh. That's uh - that's great dude. But um. It's not like we were gonna steal him or something."

"Of course not. Because he's mine," Derek agreed, as if that somehow made sense. Fucking werewolves. 

They were saved from further awkwardness by the arrival of Erica and Boyd, who got plates and piled on the food before sitting down and eating. Scott looked longingly at their bacon, but Stiles had a feeling they'd better wait for the others. 

He knew Allison had arrived when Scott jumped up happily out of his chair and went to the door to let her in. He looked vaguely guilty when he had to pick the door up and set it against the wall, because it was still broken from when he'd barreled through it the night before. 

She hugged him enthusiastically, her grin matching his until she looked up and into the room at the four other werewolves in the kitchen. Well, five if they were counting Stiles, which he wasn't sure they were.

"Help yourself. " Derek managed to say that way more pleasantly than Stiles probably would have managed if there was a strange Hunter in his kitchen. 

"Leave your crossbow and your knives by the door," Isaac said coolly. He wasn't even trying to sound friendly. 

Allison grimaced, but since it was pretty obvious that she wasn't going to be welcome in the house unless she obeyed, she unstrapped her crossbow and pulled the knives out of her boots. Then she came over to the table and sandwiched herself between Scott and Stiles. 

Lydia arrived not too long after that, with a scowling Jackson in tow. She looked perfect, as always, which made Stiles aware of the fact that he and Scott were still in the same clothes they'd slept in. He probably didn't make a very impressive Alpha. 

Then Lydia was handing him a bag of clothes and toiletries and he hugged her from sheer joy. The pack would literally fall apart without her. 

"I didn't know how long you'd be here so I just grabbed some things. We stopped by Scott's too and gave his mother the short version of what's going on. She wasn't very happy but she said she'd help cover for you. You're lucky school is out for the summer."

"You're the best, Lydia. Seriously the best. Now sit down so we can eat."

Lydia rolled her eyes, but both she and Jackson sat down. Stiles was at one end of the table, Derek at the other. Isaac was sitting to his right, Erica to his left. Boyd was next to her, and there was an empty seat between Isaac and Scott. Jackson was next to Boyd, leaving Allison and Lydia between Stiles and each of his wolves. Derek raised an eyebrow at their seating positions and then nodded like they'd passed some kind of test. 

That seemed to be some sort of signal, because Derek's pack immediately began to pass dishes around the table. Everyone seemed to be hungry, and what Stiles had first thought to be an excessive amount of food barely fed them all. Stiles put four plates away all by himself - for some reason he was ravenous. 

Everyone made small talk among themselves during the meal, but most of them were focused on eating. Stiles kept watching the other pack, though whether that was instinct or just his curiosity he didn't know. He kept staring at that enormous bite mark on Isaac's shoulder. Why did Isaac have one and not Boyd or Erica? Because they all seemed pretty damn close, but Stiles was pretty sure Boyd and Erica were together like Derek and Isaac were. Maybe marking was something only Alphas did? This whole thing was fucking confusing. 

When everyone had cleared their plates (Erica and Isaac had licked theirs clean), Stiles and his pack helped clean up. Derek just sat there and watched, since he'd cooked, and Scott and Lydia helped Boyd and Erica load the dishwasher. Isaac went outside, which was confusing until he smelled the acrid stench of cigarette smoke. That was weird - Isaac hadn't smelled like smoke last night, though now that he thought about it, he had smelled that way this morning. Stiles just hasn't registered the smell over the other, overpowering smells of food. This whole super-powered smell thing was going to take forever to get used to. 

When everything had been cleaned up and everyone was back in their respective seats, Derek cleared his throat. It looked like they were going to get down to business. 

"Today we are going to figure out the extent of your powers, Stiles. Once that has been determined, I should be able to help you shift back to normal. "

That would be nice. Even though the oversized teeth weren't bothering him as much as he thought they would, going back to the pretense of normal would be nice. 

"And how exactly do you propose we figure that out?" Lydia asked archly. "There aren't enough variables to work it out mathematically."

Derek's smile was all teeth. "The hands-on way. He's going to spar with Isaac."

"I'm going to what?!"

Chaos broke out on Stiles' side of the table, everyone talking at once. Jackson seemed all for it, but wanted details. Allison, Scott and Lydia were all against it, for various reasons, while Stiles was sort of caught between disbelief, anger, and fear. Derek's pack was calm. Erica had this freaky bloodthirsty grin on, Isaac just looked tired, and Boyd looked bored. 

Derek waited until everyone else had stopped taking before he continued, "Outside of an actual conflict where you are protecting your pack, sparring will give us the most accurate level of your powers. I have no way of helping you until then. Isaac is a good enough fighter to challenge you without hurting you or letting you hurt him. There are no other options.”

Stiles looked over to where Isaac was staring at him, his eyes glowing yellow, and intent with challenge and defiance. He really hadn't been in a fighting mood until he looked into Isaac's eyes, but something about the bare, open challenge in the Beta's eyes made him want to rip Isaac's throat out. He wouldn't, of course, because Isaac reeked of Derek, and Derek would disembowel him before he could even try it. But he could, and would, put that Beta in his place.

“I'll do it.”

"What?!" Scott yelped, "Stiles, you don't know how to fight!"

"I killed an Alpha. "

Scott rolled his eyes. "I mean you don't know how to fight as a werewolf."

Isaac was still looking at him with that challenging stare. It was driving Stiles crazy. As he watched, Isaac raised one eyebrow and smirked at him. Stiles snarled. 

"Now. Let's do it now. "

"That right there," Derek said, "those are your Alpha instincts. You're reacting to Isaac's challenge. He's from a rival pack and is obviously challenging your authority with his eye contact and attitude. In this case he's doing it on purpose, but you need to be aware of that instinct. Most of the time a physical confrontation is something you'll want to try to avoid."

"This is because I'm an Alpha? I don't feel any different. I mean, I kinda wanna rip his throat out, but I don't feel...wolfy. Just pissed."

"Alpha instincts are extremely powerful. It's easy to get overwhelmed. C'mon, we're going out back for this."

Stiles was up and out of his seat and outside before he'd even really processed what was happening. He was aching for a fight, his blood felt like fire in his veins, his hackles raised. He just wanted to rip something apart. His hands itched, fingers twisting into an approximation of claws. 

"Whoa dude, are you okay?" Scott asked.

Stiles realized he was rumbling, a constant angry growl deep in his throat. He shook himself, but he couldn't make it stop. And he was getting a serious urge to shove Scott off of him. He should know his place.

“Damn, you weren't kidding. How do you deal with this all the time? I just – how can you just stand there, right next to me without it bothering you?” Stiles asked Derek, who'd come out to the porch and stood there with his arms crossed.

“I feel it. I've just had six years to get used to it. And I don't really have any way to prove it, but you're probably feeling it more, because you're human. Your body isn't meant for Alpha hormones.”

“Hormones?! I've got werewolf hormones now?”

Derek looked at him strangely. “You're a werewolf now. Not – really. But you're an Alpha; you smell like a wolf, a little,” he shrugged. “I'm not really sure what it means though. Which is why you're going to spar with Isaac. The physical activity will help you feel better.”

Isaac stalked out into the clearing, and started removing his clothes.

“You have got to be kidding me. We're fighting naked?”

Isaac stripped off his hoodie and tossed it to Derek, who actually took a whiff of it before throwing it over his shoulders like some kind of trophy. “You can keep your clothes on if you want to, but they're going to get ruined.” He held up one hand, razor claws curving wickedly away from each of his fingertips.

“This is bullshit.” Stiles groused, before shimmying out of his own clothes down to his boxers. There was no way he was fighting completely naked in front of Lydia.

They stood facing each other, Stiles' pack fanned out behind him, Derek and his other Beta's on the other side of the clearing, like they were participants in some kind of illegal underground fighting ring. The rumbling in Stiles' throat grew louder, until he was snarling, his lips drawn back over his teeth. He was circling Isaac, nerves thrumming with energy, like he'd forgotten to take his Adderall and then stayed up for three days straight.

“This is not a fight to the death,” Derek said sternly. “I'm stopping this fight at first blood – it's only to get a gauge of Stiles' abilities. Got it?”

“As you wish.” Isaac said automatically.

“Stiles?”

“What? Yeah, sure, whatever. Can we start now?”

He could practically hear Derek's eyes rolling. “Whenever you like.”

“Awesome.” 

Stiles lunged at Isaac, fangs snapping. Isaac's eyes flickered yellow, and he sped out of the way, leaving Stiles to skid to a stop and spin around with a snarl. He swung out his fist, and Isaac backed away from it, then came up under his outstretched fist to land a hard blow against Stiles' chest. Unlike his human form, which would have been thrown against a tree from the force of Isaac's blow, Stiles only skidded back a few feet. He felt his ribs snap under the blow, but he was up and shaking it off within seconds. 

Something shifted in him with the feel of the blow. He could actually feel his bones knitting back together. It was unreal. Everything sort of faded away from him; his human consciousness becoming less important then the hunt. He snarled again, and leapt at Isaac. When the werewolf dodged again, Stiles dug his hands into the dirt, flipped around and slammed his feet into Isaac's face, pushing the werewolf into the dirt. Then he flung himself on Isaac, and bit down on the first thing his jaws came in contact with.

There was the sound of bone crunching, and his mouth filled with the taste of blood, his ears ringing with the sound of Isaac screaming. Then there was two hundred pounds of angry Alpha on top of him, shoving him off of Isaac, claws digging into his shoulders and neck to keep Stiles' teeth from snapping out again.

Derek roared in his face, and this time, he felt it in his bones. A superior Alpha had him pinned; had a hand on his throat and abdomen, could rip him apart in an instant. Fear flooded him, and shame, and he went limp. A pathetic whine escaped his throat, and he bared his throat and begged Derek not to kill him.

Once he seemed convinced Stiles would stay put, Derek snarled and shoved off him. "Contain your Alpha."

Scott came over to him, looking wary. None of the others would even look at him. He could smell their fear. He was a fucking monster.

"Are you... alright man?" Scott asked, concerned. "You really lost it."

"Y-yeah. I'm ok." He pushed himself up so he could see what was happening.

Isaac was still screaming, and there was blood everywhere. His right leg was completely torn up, and there was the distinct impression of Stiles' teeth that looked like it went all the way into the bone. Boyd and Erica were holding him down, while Derek was pulling his leg back together, straightening the bone. He watched in horror as Derek applied a splint, and then leaned over and started licking the bloody mess of Isaac's leg. 

"What is he doing?!"

"Disinfecting it. It takes a lot longer to heal from the injuries an Alpha gives you." Scott sounded waaay too nonchalant about that.

Lydia came running out of the house, and dropped the first aid kit she'd been carrying beside Derek. Isaac had stopped screaming - his packmates were leeching away his pain.

"What can I do to help?" Lydia asked. 

"Hold his leg. I'm going to stitch it up so it heals faster."

She was white-faced and looked squeamish, but did as he directed. Derek took a needle and thread out of the box, threaded it and stitched up Isaac's leg with the precision that only came from having done this more than once. Stiles held back a shudder as Derek licked the wound again until it was clean. 

"Take him inside." Derek ordered, and then came back over to Stiles with the first aid box. 

Stiles couldn't help the twinge or the whimper in his throat at Derek's approach. 

"I'm not going to hurt you Stiles. You don't know what you're doing yet."

"I could have killed him!"

"Isaac will be alright. He'll heal in the next day or so. If it had been a real fight, he would have ripped your throat out before you got the chance to land a hit."

"You know, somehow that doesn't make me feel better."

Derek just glowered at him. "How is your shoulder? I clawed you up pretty good."

Stiles looked down at his shoulders, his hands coming up to find bloody but unbroken skin. "I'm fine."

Derek frowned and crouched down to get a better look. "You healed. I guess you are an Alpha, after all."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I have to teach you." Derek didn't look happy about that at all. "For now, go home. Figure out something to tell your father; you're going to be staying here and living with us until you can control yourself."

"What the hell am I supposed to tell him, that I ran off and joined the priesthood?"

"I don't care what you tell him. You're going to be taught how to keep from hurting my wolves or anyone else, or you're going to be put down. Understand?"

Stiles looked over and the churned earth and blood where Isaac had been. "Yeah. I understand."

"Good. "

"But wait! What about my teeth?! And my eyes?"

Derek looked a little disgusted. "They went back to normal when you submitted to me. Didn't you notice?"

He really hadn't. He'd sort of had other things on his mind at that point. "Uh..."

"Go home Stiles. Pack. Lie if necessary. Just be back first thing tomorrow."

Stiles grimaced, but let Scott pull him to his feet. They all left together, Scott getting a ride from Allison, Stiles cramming in with Lydia, Jackson, and Jackson's ego. He sighed heavily and stared out the window. What was he going to tell his dad?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of suicidal behavior/cutting and enabling. I took liberties with wolfsbane, wounds from alphas, and werewolf bloodlines. 
> 
> In case anyone was wondering, mercury, or 'quicksilver' is thought to be just as deadly to werewolves as silver. It doesn't come up in the show, but don't you get tired of everything being mountain ash or wolfsbane? Because I do.

Derek

      
    Derek breathed out a sigh of relief when they were finally gone.  "Boyd, go keep an eye on them and make sure Stiles doesn't fuck up the whole thing.  Erica, call Ganner and have him send up my equipment and see if Rose will watch the gallery.  We're going to be here longer than I wanted."

    Orders taken care of, he was finally able to answer the frantic tugging of his wolf, demanding he take care of his wounded mate.   He climbed the stairs two at a time, heading straight into Isaac's bedroom.   His mate was laying on the bed, his eyes closed against the pain, and he was whining slightly.

    Derek pulled off his clothes and slid in bed behind him.   He leeched the pain out of Isaac, licking his jaw reassuringly.  It was going to take Isaac longer to heal with the mercury in his system, and it hurt Derek that Isaac had felt he needed the blade.  His lover had come so far in the last four years, he'd hoped Isaac wouldn't need it anymore.

    "How are you?" he asked softly.

    "Better now that you're here."  Isaac said, shifting back against him. "Thank you for not killing him. "

    "I wanted to. He hurt you."

    "I'll heal.  I could have killed him myself, if I'd wanted to.  Did you see his stance? It was terrible."

    Derek chuckled against his back.  "It really was.  I don't know how they managed to survive this whole time."

    "He was thinking like a human before.  Now he's thinking like a wolf, but he's got a human body.  It must be confusing."

    "Mmh. Enough talking now.  Sleep so you can heal."

    "You're just saying that because you're tired," Isaac said, but his breathing evened out into sleep eventually.

    Derek pressed his face into the crook between Isaac's head and neck, and dropped off into sleep himself.

xxx

    Derek woke to Boyd placing a tray full of sandwiches beside him.

    "Erica said Isaac needed to eat, so I stopped and got these for you.  I'm heading back out now."

    "Thank you.  Stiles hasn't done anything spectacularly stupid yet, has he?"

    "No.  He had a bit of a meltdown when he got home, until he realized I was watching.  He told me to ask you if he could just tell his dad about us; about him.  Scott's mother already knows, apparently."

    "He might as well.  This isn't something that's going to go away.  And having the county sheriff know and care about protecting one of our own might come in handy later on."

    "I'll take care of it." Boyd turned to go.

    "Boyd? If he needs proof?  Have Scott do it."

    "As you wish. "

    When he was gone, Derek nudged Isaac gently.  "You need to wake up and eat, Isaac."

    Isaac groaned.  As he stirred, a fresh wave of pain passed through him and into Derek.   Isaac had a definite fever, his body fighting against the Alpha's bite and the mercury.  He'd be all right as long as his didn't get infected before it started to heal.

    Isaac started coughing, so Derek passed him a napkin.  He took it gratefully, and held it over his mouth as he coughed. When he pulled it away, it was black.

    "I'm fine," Isaac said quickly.  "This happened last time, remember?"

    "Last time that Alpha pulled one of your lungs out. We don't know anything about Stiles.  What if his bite is toxic? I shouldn't have had you spar with him."

    "I agreed.  Don't try to take all the blame. "

    "It was my decision."

    Isaac sorted, "I've told you when I thought your plans were terrible in the past but I didn't disagree this time. I was just careless.  I'll be fine."

    Derek ran a hand down his lover's side.  He felt more than a little co-dependent as he admitted, "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. "

    "I'm okay, really.  Now are we going to eat, or not?"

    Between the two of them they managed to eat the entire tray of food and drink almost a gallon of water, and then Derek helped Isaac to the bathroom before laying back down again.  Isaac's fever was still high, but he settled down again easily enough.  Derek fell asleep curled around him protectively.

xxx

    The next time Derek woke up, Isaac had taken a turn for the worse.  He was so hot his skin was actually painful to touch, and his leg was oozing black ichor.  Derek officially lost his shit.

    He called Deaton and demanded that he get to the clinic immediately, and he didn't care that it was two in the morning, Isaac was dying.  Then he sent Erica to get Stiles to the clinic, to drag him there if necessary. Boyd drive them, because Derek was shaking to badly to do it himself.

    When he saw Stiles at the clinic, the only thing that kept him from killing the boy on the spot was the fact that he was holding Isaac.  Stiles went completely white when he saw how sick Isaac was, which didn't actually make Derek feel better, but did help to curb some of his rage.

    "What happened?" The boy asked, "You said he'd heal!"

    "I don't know," Derek snarled, "Get inside so Deaton can examine you and heal Isaac."

    They all crammed into the back of the clinic, Derek laying Isaac down on the examination table and piling his jacket underneath Isaac's head as a pillow.   He hadn't taken the time to dress, Isaac so he adjusted the blankets around him so that the wound would be visible.

    Deaton was visibly shaken, which was bad, because Deaton never lost his cool. Ever.   The doctor set up an IV and injected something to act as a painkiller and to fight infection.  The last time Derek had needed werewolf strength medicine Deaton had had to make it from scratch. It said something about the situation in Beacon Hills that he'd just had some on hand.

    He cleaned Isaac's wound and changed the wrapping before turning to Derek.  "He's not heading like he should be.  Which I'm sure you know.  Do you mind telling me what happened?"

    Stiles was the one who spoke up.  "We were sparring. It was an accident.  I don't really have a handle on all this Alpha stuff yet."

    "Stiles, you can't be an Alpha.  You're human," Deaton said, in a tone that implied he was used to dealing with Stiles' hyperactivity.

    "Yeah, you'd think so." Stiles' eyes flashed red.  "Turns out life's a bitch."

    "Fascinating." Deaton looked at him curiously.  "And you bit him hard enough to cause this damage? How did that happen?"

    Stiles closed his eyes like he was concentrating.  His face contorted into rage, his scent grew angry and powerful and dominant, his teeth extended, canines growing long and dangerous. A deep growl started in the back of his throat.  When he opened his eyes they were red.

    "Could you guys all move back or something? I can't-it's really hard to control myself with everyone so close."

    "Boyd, Erica, go outside.  I'll call if I need you, " Derek snapped.

    They left, and Stiles moved away from Derek and Isaac until he got his growling under control and stood there while Deaton examined him.

    "You're producing a lot of saliva, Stiles.  More than I've seen in other werewolves.  I don't suppose you noticed if Peter also salivated?"

    "Staring at his mouth wasn't really a high priority of mine no, except to keep from getting bitten."

    "But there were highly unusual results from his bites."

    "... yeah.  Jackson became the kanima, Scott turned but wasn't a normal Beta, Lydia was immune."

    "Based on that and Isaac's major reaction to your bite, I'd say there is a good chance you're venomous."

    "I'm venomous?! Am I - am I becoming a kanima too?"

    "I wouldn't think so.  But you're definitely something new, something unknown.  You're a human Alpha.  That just doesn't happen. Isaac's body certainly doesn't know how to handle you."

    "So I'm a genetic fuck-up. Wonderful."

    "It's not a bad thing, Stiles."

    "No?! Tell that to the Argents. Tell that to Isaac.  If he dies - if - if I kill him -"

    "It won't come to that, Stiles." Deaton said automatically, but Derek could smell the uncertainty on him, and so could Stiles.

    "I'm going to take a sample of your saliva, Stiles, and then I'll need blood samples from you, Derek, and either Boyd or Erica."

    "Whatever you need, " Derek said immediately.  Stiles just nodded miserably.

    Deaton gathered a sample of Stiles' saliva in a Petri dish, and Derek let him take a large blood sample.  Then he pulled a chair over and stayed with Isaac while Deaton went into his lab to run some tests.   Stiles slumped down onto the floor, ending up with his head cradled in his hands, looking completely defeated.  He was radiating misery and shame, and if Isaac hadn't been so ill, Derek would have felt the need to comfort him, to cradle him to his chest and reassure him with touch like he would have with any of his pack.  He wasn't even angry with Stiles any longer—the kid was so obviously miserable and out of his depth Derek couldn't fault him, especially since he'd been following Derek's orders at the time.

    It was several hours before Deaton returned.  Isaac's fever spiked again, but there was no more black blood leaking out of his wound, so his body was at least holding its own. When the doctor did appear again, he looked much more positive, and he had several jars of home made salve with him, which gave Derek hope that everything really was going to be alright.  Stiles looked up at his approach, his face looking like he was expecting a death sentence.

    Deaton didn't keep any of them waiting in suspense.  "The bad news is you are most definitely venomous," he began.   Stiles' face fell.  "The good news is that it isn't fatal."

    The boy looked up sharply, his werewolf features melting away in his relief.  "Really?"

    "If you savaged a particularly weak Omega, you might kill it.  But an Alpha would have no trouble with the venom, it shouldn't affect them more than a normal bite—and a Beta should be able to fight off the poison just fine. I would refrain from biting humans, however, with either set of teeth, at least until I can run more tests."

    "But if that's true—why is Isaac like that?"

    "I think Derek knows the answer to that," the doctor said cryptically, and Derek felt a wash of shame go through him.  He'd let Isaac harm himself, and now his Beta was suffering for it.  He'd failed to protect his pack.  He might as well have bitten Isaac himself.

    "What the hell does that mean?" Stiles scowled.

    "If you'll show me the cuts, Derek, I have something that should neutralize the mercury."

    Derek looked pointedly at Stiles, but the doctor didn't ask him to leave, which Derek figured was probably his way of punishing Derek's failure.  So Derek pulled back the blanket from around Isaac's arms, and unwrapped the bandages. Stiles hissed at the sight of the self-inflicted gashes, and Derek couldn't help but agree. There were dozens of them, all up and down Isaac's arms, at least two of them deep enough to hit bone, and they were all oozing black fluid.

    "Is that—did he—?" Stiles tried to ask, but shut up when Derek glared at him.

    Deaton didn't say anything, but the corners of his mouth turned down in disapproval. Clearly he thought Derek should have prevented this. And Derek couldn't say he disagreed with him.

    The doctor opened one of the jars of salve and applied it directly to Isaac's cuts. As he applied it, the blood from the cuts turned from black to red, and then stopped flowing as the cuts sealed off. Then he gently dabbed away the now black salve, applied a fresh layer, and wrapped Isaac's arms back up.

    "I've neutralized the mercury.  You'll need to reapply the salve every eight hours with fresh bandages until his cuts heal.  With the strain on his system from the mercury and the venom I'd say probably a couple of days."

    Next he tended Isaac's leg.  He set a trash can in front of Stiles, which was completely confusing until he cut Isaac's stitches and opened the wound.   Stiles took one look and then was violently sick.   The wound didn't look like it had healed at all—it was still a mess of blood, sliced muscle and tendon, and bits of crushed bone fragment.  Derek felt a little ill himself.  It shouldn't still look like that.

    Deaton talked while he worked, cleaning out the wound and packing it with herbs that were probably magical in nature, stitching the wound back up and applying salve and dressing.

    “What I'm doing will help neutralize the toxin in Isaac's bloodstream, and promote healing.  The herbs are going to suppress a lot of his natural werewolf healing, which will help with the allergic reaction he's having to the mercury, and allow the herbs and the salve to do their jobs.  He should still heal at an accelerated rate; I'd say he'll have use of the leg back in a week, week and a half, and be completely healed in about two weeks time.  I'll want to check up on him every couple of days, and he'll need to use crutches to get around for the first week or so, but he should heal up just fine.”

    The doctor changed out the bag on the IV for a fresh one, and said, “I'm going to write you a prescription that will allow someone to rent crutches for him at the hospital.  Stay here until the bag of fluid has completely drained, and then you can take him home.”

    “Thank you,”  Derek said sincerely.

    “You're welcome.  Now if you all don't mind, I'm going home to sleep before I have to be back here in a few hours.  I expect to see you here after closing time tomorrow, Mr. Stillinski, for some more tests.  Please try to refrain from harming anyone before then.”

    Stiles scowled.

    “Goodnight.  Or, good morning, rather,”  Deaton said, and left.

    Stiles didn't look like he knew what to do with himself after that.  Finally, he came over to stand next to Isaac, and said quietly, “I'm glad he's going to be alright.”

    Derek didn't know what to say to that that wouldn't come out more harshly than would really be helpful at this point, so instead he said, “Go home, Stiles.  Get some sleep, see your dad.  You can move in tomorrow after Deaton's finished with you for the day.”

    “Do you – do you need help getting him home?”

    “I think we'll manage.”  He had two other Betas to help him, after all.

    “Yeah.  Right, yeah, sure.  Okay.  I'll – I'll see you tomorrow.  Today.  Tonight.  Whatever.”  He shuffled out.

    Derek let out a huge gust of breath, and lowered his head to Isaac's chest.  “Don't ever fucking do that to me again,” he said, even though he knew the other man couldn't hear him.  “I'm gonna get you home, and make sure you take your medicine and use your crutches and stay hydrated. Everything's going to be alright.  I didn't take care of you before, but I promise you–I'm going to protect you.  I'm going to keep you safe.”

    Isaac didn't answer of course, but his breathing was easier, and he didn't look as pale as he had before.  Probably because he wasn't actively poisoning himself any more.  Derek ran one thumb over the spot on Isaac's neck where he still had a dark, marking bruise and rasped, “I'm going to take care of you.  Everything's going to be alright.”

    Then, so quiet that even accounting for werewolf hearing, it was still just between the two of them, he whispered, “I love you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Low self-esteem, mentions of self-harm, suicidal behavior, various uses of wolfsbane (I took some creative liberties.)
> 
> Asexual sex in this chapter - Disaac! I am not asexual myself but I have done a lot of research. However, if you are asexual and feel it should be written differently, feel free to leave a comment or message me on tumblr.

Chapter 5  
  
Isaac  


 

    Isaac woke up feeling much better than he had when he'd gone to bed.  It was mid-afternoon, and he was in a warm, comfortable pile of safety and pack.  Derek was sleeping at his back, one arm tucked carefully around his waist.  Erica and Boyd were laying in front of him, Erica's head resting on his stomach just above Derek's arm; Boyd's head on his chest, his huge arm protectively around his shoulders.  Neither of them were actually asleep; he could hear their breathing and heartbeats, but they seemed more than content to just lay there cuddling with him.

    He laid there as long as he could stand before the overwhelming urge to use the bathroom finally roused him.  He pushed himself to sit up, but before he could actually try to get up, Boyd was holding him down, and Derek was stirring unhappily.

    “You can't walk on that yet,”  Boyd told him seriously, and Isaac looked down at his leg in confusion.

    It was re-splinted and bandaged much more heavily than before.  He could smell the electric snap of magic emanating from the wound, along with the strong odor of medicine and sickness.  “What the hell?”

    “You had a relapse,”  Derek said, his voice still rough with sleep.

    "I don't remember that at all." Isaac admitted.  
      
    "That's probably because you were unconscious the entire time," Derek gritted out. He didn't look happy.  
      
    Boyd and Erica got out of the way of what was sure to be a freakout of epic proportions.   Erica mentioned something about perimeter checks, while Boyd mumbled something about breakfast before they both left the room.  
      
    "I get the impression you're mad at me."  
      
    Derek looked like he might explode.   "You almost died, Isaac! How am I not supposed to me mad about that? I let you hurt yourself, and it nearly killed you!"  
      
    "Let me? Derek, you didn't let me do anything. I did it all on my own."

    “I knew what you were doing, I could have stopped you.  I let you keep a kit under your bed, for fuck's sake.”

    “Fuck, Derek.  I would have hurt myself with something else. That's why I started using the box in the first place, so you'd know what I'd gotten into.  Do you remember what happened when you first found out what I'd been doing and took my knife away?"  
                
              He'd swallowed wolfsbane. Not like, a lot, and it was a very weak strain, nothing like what the hunters used to actually kill werewolves, but it'd hurt like a bitch and he'd spit up black frothy blood for days. Derek had understandably lost his shit, but he hadn't even freaked out as much as he was now. Once he'd figured out what Isaac had done and gotten his stomach pumped, they'd sat down and talked about it and Derek had given him his knife back.  
                
              "That was different!"  
                
              "Like hell it was!”

    “I wasn't in love with you then!”  Derek screamed it at him, and then just sort of stood there in shock, like he couldn't believe he'd actually said that.

    “You...you've never said that to me before.”

    “Yeah, well...that doesn't make it not true.”

    Isaac let out this little half laugh.  “God, we're so fucked up.  I love you too, asshole.  Don't wait till I nearly die to let me know.”

    “Yeah, well...”  Derek trailed off, and kissed him instead.

    Derek was like that – he preferred to communicate through actions rather than verbalize anything.  They'd been dancing around the actual 'I love you, you jerk,' conversation for almost a year now.  They'd been together since about six months after Isaac had turned, but they'd never really talked about it; never openly said they were together, or that they were anything more than a particularly close Alpha and second.  Boyd and Erica knew better, of course; knew about the times they got sent on patrol so that Isaac and Derek could be alone together, knew that Derek went just a little bit crazy when Isaac was the one to get hurt, knew that Isaac slept better with Derek than he did with either of them.  Isaac knew too – he knew how he felt about Derek, and hoped Derek felt the same.  But they'd never actually said anything.

    Derek was saying it now, though.  He kissed Isaac desperately, all of his love and passion coming through in the touches of his hands, his mouth.  Every time they pulled back for breath, he was murmuring, “I love you,” over and over again, like now that it was out in the world, he couldn't stop. Isaac said it too, with the touch of his hands in Derek's hair, with the kisses he pressed to Derek's jaw and throat, with a few choked moans when Derek reached down between them and palmed him lightly.

    “Oh, god, Derek, you – you don't have to.”

    “Shut up,”  Derek said with a smile, “I want to.”

    “Well, if that's how you want to say 'I love you,' I'm not gonna complain.”  Isaac's grin turned into a moan as Derek licked his way down Isaac's chest towards his groin.

    Sex wasn't something that they really engaged in very often.  Isaac enjoyed sex every now and then, but he had to feel completely safe and comfortable before he could even get aroused, and Derek hardly ever actually wanted sex as something more than a way to please Isaac.  Isaac was fairly certain it had something to do with his disastrous relationship with Kate that none of them were really supposed to know about but they all did anyway.  After that, Isaac didn't really blame him for not wanting sex.  But Derek liked getting Isaac off, and he gave a hell of a blow job.

    With Derek, sex was never quick.  If they actually had it, they made out for a good long time; hours sometimes, before anyone got off.  Derek liked to mark every single part of him with his tongue, his teeth, and his scent, until he smelled more like Derek than the Alpha did.  Isaac did his share of kissing too, but Derek felt more comfortable when he was on top and in charge.  Isaac felt comfortable and safe when he was underneath Derek; his weight comforting from where he was straddling Isaac's hips, his stubble rubbing against Isaac's skin where he kissed him.

    By the time Derek got to actually licking around Isaac's balls and cock, he'd had plenty of time to get aroused.  His cock was rock hard, and Derek's mouth felt fucking amazing.  “Ah, fuck Derek.”

    Derek just chuckled, and took Isaac into his mouth.  

    “Fuck!  That's – fuck!”  

    He wanted to bury his hands in Derek's hair, but that tended to trigger awful memories for his lover, so Isaac settled for gripping his hands into the sheets instead.  One of the benefits of not have sex that often was that when they did, it felt so fucking good.   Derek was really fucking good at giving head; he could go fast and hard, or slow and languid, licking the underside of Isaac's cock with his tongue. He could take Isaac into his throat and fuck him until Isaac came, screaming from the sheer pleasure of it.  He could, and did, and Isaac just lay there afterwords, panting.

    Derek laid down next to him again, nuzzling into Isaac's neck, and trailing a hand down around Isaac's waist.  Isaac gave him a lazy kiss and murmured,  “You want anything?”

    “I already got what I wanted,”  Derek said, kissing him back.

    “That was almost sweet,”  Isaac teased.  “It was really good.”

    “I figured that out when you were screaming at the top of your lungs.”

    “Ass.”  Isaac smacked him on the shoulder.

    “You know you love me.”

    Isaac looked him in the eye.  “I really do.”

    Derek was staring back at him, and his eyes glowed red.  “Be my mate, Isaac.  Officially.”

    “Are you seriously proposing to me on the same day you finally admit you have feelings for me?”

    “Yes,”  Derek said earnestly.  “Please.  We'll do the ceremony as soon as your leg is better.  If – I mean, if you want to.”

     "I don't-I mean, uh... are you even...up for that?"  Isaac said carefully.  
                
              Derek made a face.  "What are you talking about? I'll have to have Ganner ship me the right herbs, but all I have to do is draw the circle and say the right words.  It's not even a complex ceremony."  
                
              "Ceremony?  I thought you had to uh.  Um.  Knot me."  
                
              The expression on Derek's face would have been hilarious if it wasn't such a serious moment.   "Knot you? What kind of crazy porn have you been watching? I don't have a knot!"  
                
              "You don't? But I thought - uh, I mean I've heard -"  
                
              "Don't believe everything you hear when you're working at a porn magazine Isaac.  Fuck.  No. I'm not going to mount you with my enormous knot.  Just.  No.  How did that even - no, I don't want to know.  Look.  Every werewolf can has their own way of doing the ceremony. It's the only magic werewolves can do, and it's as different as the strands of lycanthropy in our blood. Stiles, for example.  His lycanthropy comes from another clan because Peter was stupid and wanted to be an Alpha so bad he went out of state to challenge one.   So his change manifests differently.  That clan would have a different meeting ceremony too, different herbs or a different rune arrangement or something.   God, I hope he doesn't have a knot."  
                
              Derek shook his head, like that thought had left a bad taste in his brain.  "Anyways.  Point.  No knot. Just some magic and a claiming bite that'll be permanent.  That's all."  
                
              "Oh.  Yeah, yeah I can do that.  Is everything else true about a mating bond true, or is that just bullshit too? Because I'd kind of like being closer to you.  Having a stronger bond with you than the rest of the pack."  
                
              Derek sighed happily and inched closer to Isaac.   "We'd always be able to find each other.  Unless someone knew the exact magic used to make the bond, it can't be cut out, blocked or broken.  You'd know how I was feeling, more than you do now.  It's not a burden though; you can block that part if you want to, but you probably won't want to.  The best part is because I'm an Alpha, you'll have higher stamina and strength than you do now. Not quite as good as mine, but still enhanced."  
                
              "I'd heal more, too.  Wouldn't I?"  Isaac thought he was catching on now.  
                
              "Yes," Derek said, sounding me than a little guilty.  "That's not why I want to do this though.  Well.  Not the whole reason.  Mating bonds are permanent and I - you're perfect Isaac.   I didn't say anything before because I wanted - I needed to be sure.  But I am.  Unless - unless you don't want to?"  
                
              "So what you're saying is that you're a closet romantic?"  
                
              Derek had on the most epic bitchface Isaac had ever seen.  He couldn't help it; he burst out laughing.   He laughed until his chest hurt.  "You - you should see your face!" he gasped out, before his words dissolved into helpless giggles.  Derek was not amused.  
                
              When Isaac pulled himself back together he said,  "No, seriously though.  I'd love to.  I mean, just to really belong to you would be – I'd like that.”

    “I'd belong to you, too.  Even though I'm an Alpha, the mating bond goes both ways.”

    “You know, I'm not gonna lie.  I really like the sound of that.”  Isaac flashed a feral smile.

    “Me too.”

    “Oh – shit.  Am I still going to be able to model?  I mean that's not a deal breaker or anything, but I like working at the magazine.  What am I gonna tell Rose?”

    Derek snorted.  “You can still model.  If it's a problem, they can cover the mark with makeup. Most of the time you won't need to.  We'll just have to do more shoots together, and anyways...Alphas find that attractive.  A mating scar.”

    “Really?  That's...kinda weird.”

    “You're the one who thought I was going to knot you,”  Derek pointed out.

    Isaac decided to ignore the comeback.  “So, I really need to use the bathroom.  Any way I can persuade you to let me up?”

    Derek got up first, and pulled on some boxers before going into their closet and bringing out a brand new pair of crutches.  Isaac rolled his eyes, but let Derek help him to his feet and fit his arms into the crutches.  It took some adjusting, but this wasn't the first time he'd used crutches, so he was hobbling down the hallway to the bathroom in no time.  He made Derek stay outside while he used the bathroom; he wasn't completely helpless.

    Once he'd finished, Derek came back in and helped him wash.  He couldn't take an actual shower or bath because of the bandages, so Isaac sat in the dry tub and Derek helped him wash using damp washcloths and Derek's body wash.  Derek was determined to have Isaac smell like sex and him as much as possible, which of course couldn't possibly have anything to do with the fact that Stiles was moving in today.  There was the distinct possibility that now that Isaac had accepted Derek's proposal, his Alpha was going to be even more possessive than before.  Not that Isaac was complaining.  He liked it.  Derek was possessive without being restrictive or abusive; he just really, really liked everyone knowing that Isaac belonged to him, and Isaac really didn't see anything wrong with that.  Even if it meant he hadn't used his own toiletries in years.

    After that, it was dinner time, because Isaac had apparently slept all day.  Derek helped him into some striped pajama bottoms, and carried him down the stairs, which made Isaac grumpy.  He was appeased by the amount of food that Boyd had waiting for them, and it was even better when he sat and let the entire pack fuss over him.  It was their last group meal before Stiles' pack moved in, so Isaac enjoyed it.  He scent marked his entire pack, and they took turns telling him jokes, re-filling his plate, and just enjoying his company.  It was the best meal they'd had together in a long time.  He didn't plan on getting deathly ill again any time soon, but it was nice to see his pack really pull together when they needed to.  Hopefully things with Stiles' pack would go as smoothly, but Isaac wasn't holding his breath.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing the last chapter, so I figured I'd celebrate with a mid-week post!! Seriously, thank you all for leaving such awesome feedback! It's really kept me motivated to keep writing!
> 
> Warnings: language. Liberties taken with werewolves, because really, they don't go into it all that much.

Stiles

  
Stiles managed to arrive at the new Hale house about nine at night. None of them had even known this house was here - all their confrontations had taken place at the old, burned out house, where Peter had lived like some kind of ghoul.  
  
To be fair, the new house was as far away as it could get from the old one and still be on the Hale property. It was huge too - at least six bedrooms, probably more. Perfect for a good sized wolf pack, even kind Derek's pack only had four members right now. It was weird to think that technically Stiles' pack was larger, even if Derek had more werewolves. They had a hunter and a genius so who cared if Derek's pack was older and better trained? Stiles' pack had done fine on their own. Yeah. Right.  
  
Stiles shouldered his bag nervously and stood in front of the door, which had repaired at some point since he'd last been there. Should he knock or - ? He had no idea what the proper protocol was here.  
  
Boyd opened the door while Stiles was still standing there trying to figure out what to do. He looked up at the hulking giant and tried to figure out if Boyd was angry, or if that was his natural expression.  
  
"Erica's pissed at you, " he said without preamble, "but Derek said we have to be nice to you. It's not your fault you're such a terrible werewolf."  
  
Ouch. "Um. Thanks, I guess. For taking pity on me, I mean."  
  
Boyd shrugged. "I'm the newest one in our pack. I remember what it was like, the first couple months. I still fuck up sometimes."  
  
He moved out of the way so that Stiles could squeeze past him and into the house. "If you hurt Erica, I'll rip your arms off," he informed Stiles pleasantly. He could probably do it too. Fucking werewolves.  
  
"Wonderful," Stiles bit out under his breath.  
  
Derek and Co. were sitting in the living room all piled together, watching T.V. Stiles winced at the sight of Isaacs crutches propped up against the wall and his leg, which was resting on an ottoman, still wrapped in bandages. Boyd came back and sat on the couch, openly expressing his affection for Derek and nuzzling him on the cheek. Derek responded by running his hand across Boyd's head and neck. Stiles felt an unexpected pang of longing spike through him at that easy touch that his pack so obviously lacked.  
  
"How did it go with your father?" Derek asked, finally turning his attention to Stiles. "No problems?"  
  
"I'm here, aren't I?" Stiles asked, with a little more heat than was strictly necessary.  
  
Telling his father had not gone over particularly well. He didn't know what his father was more upset about - that Stiles has been lying to him for almost two years, or that a bunch of teenagers had been trying to deal with everything that had happened to them all on their own. He'd been even less pleased to learn that all three of Beacon Hills' runways had been turned into werewolves by Derek Hale.  
  
Still, he'd handled all that pretty well, considering. Scott had only had to transform once for the sheriff to really put all the pieces together. It was when he found out that Stiles was a werewolf too, (sort of,) that he'd really lost his shit. He hadn't wanted Stiles to come here, to a house full of strange werewolves. It had taken hours of earnest discussion that had dissolved into downright pleading before Stiles' dad had relented. And he'd made it very clear that he was going to be listening for any distress calls at the new Hale house, and carrying a gun with wolfsbane bullets. 

"No point in waiting then, " Derek said. "We might as well get started."

"What? Now? It's like nine o'clock at night!" 

Isaac arched his brow at him. Stiles was seriously getting sick of that. "Werewolves are nocturnal by nature. Didn't you know that?"

"Yes," Stiles snapped. He totally didn't. Maybe that's why Scott was always bitchy in the mornings. He'd always been a morning person until he'd been turned. 

"Leave your things wherever. We'll be training out back."

Stiles sighed and dropped his bag in the corner. He didn't know if they were getting naked for this or not, but he figured he'd take his shoes and socks off just in case. He'd started hating shoes the last couple of days; feeling the earth beneath his toes was... well, grounding. 

Derek was busy french kissing Isaac, so Stiles went out in the back yard by himself, and waited for Derek to appear. He tapped his feet in the ground and drummed his nails in the wood while he waited, because his ADHD had not gone away since he'd become an Alpha. If anything, it was worse. There were so many new sights and smells and sounds, it was easier than ever to get distracted. And he was always filled with this weird, aggressive energy and tension. It made him want to bite someone. Except that biting was bad, so he wasn't going to do that. But he wanted to. 

Derek came outside after several minutes of nervous tapping. He was only wearing a loose pair of shorts. His eyes zeroed in on Stiles' nervous movements, and he said, "Let's go for a run."

Stiles watched with embarrassment and more than a little interest as Derek pulled his shorts off altogether. Derek was very—gifted. Not that Stiles was looking, or anything. He certainly hadn't been compulsively checking out every guy he laid eyes on since he'd figured out he was gay six months ago. Nope.

Derek wasn't fooled at all. He just rolled his eyes at Stiles, and then hunched down on all fours. A few bone crunching spasms later, Derek was gone and in his place was an enormous black wolf. 

"What the hell is that?! How did you do that?"

The wolf-that-was-Derek just rolled its eyes. He ran ahead a dozen paces and looked back at Stiles expectantly. 

"You've got to be kidding me."

The wolf just sneezed at him. 

"No. No way."

Now the wolf looked cross. He ran back until he was behind Stiles and snapped at his heels. 

"Okay, okay! Jeez, give a guy a second." Stiles stripped off his shirt and threw it on the porch. "You'll have to lead the way, I don't know where we're going."

Derek took off again, and this time, Stiles followed him. Derek started him out slow and gradually increased their speed, testing Stiles' abilities and his endurance. Eventually they were flying through the forest, Stiles' feet digging into the dirt, his muscles straining, pushing his body to the limit. It felt amazing. He'd never gone this fast before—he was always the one left behind while the others ran through the woods. Not this time. 

They eventually circled back around to Derek's house. Stiles was dripping sweat, his muscles quaking in exhaustion, and he flopped over into the dirt in front of the house. The wolf came over and nudged him for a moment before huffing out another breath and trotting away into the house. 

Derek came back out a few moments later, wearing his shorts and holding a glass of water out to him. Stiles took it gratefully, but drank it slowly. He knew better than to chug it and risk throwing up all over the place.

When he'd finished, Derek was sitting across from him, legs folded in a meditation pose. “Now that you're calm, we're going to work on your shifting. Sit like this, and focus your breathing. Have you ever meditated before?”

“Uh, no.” Stiles tried to copy Derek's relaxed pose, and sort of managed it after about seven tries. “I have ADHD. Meditation and I don't really get along. But fidgeting. Fidgeting and I get along great. We're really close, you know?”

Derek just sighed. “Close your eyes. Focus on your wolf. Embrace it – let it out.”

Stiles did not bother to point out how ridiculous that sounded. It just wasn't worth it. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, pretending he was having a panic attack and was trying to calm down. It was that same sort of process; centering himself, feeling the world just sort of slow around him, hearing his breath go in and out. He could feel the wolf part of him, lying way closer to the surface of his consciousness than he was really comfortable with. 

It was all too easy to let his wolf to the surface. He felt his teeth grow, large and menacing. His hearing increased tenfold, momentarily overwhelming him with sound. Then his sense of smell kicked in. He smelled earth, pine, bugs, wind, oncoming rain, trees, an overwhelming scent of Derek – blood and sweat and strength and m– what the hell was _that?_ That smelled awful.

He opened his eyes and craned his neck away to the source of the awful smell. Isaac was sitting on the porch now, his leg propped up and his crutches across his lap. He was smoking, and obviously checking Derek out. Stiles was mildly disgusted, and apparently it showed on his face.

Isaac blew smoke in his direction. "Don't stop on account of me."

Stiles made a face. "Those smell disgusting. How does that not bother you?"

Derek shrugged. "I don't particularly like it, but Isaac can smoke if he wants to. He's nineteen. As long as he didn't smoke in the house. Now stop procrastinating and focus."

"How am I supposed to focus with that smell floating around?" Styles griped, but closed his eyes and tried anyway. 

It was a lot harder to suppress the wolf than it had been to let it out. Every time he thought he'd calmed enough to be human again, he'd catch some scent or sound and his wolf senses would be back in force. 

"You need an anchor," Isaac said, interrupting his failed attempts at meditation. 

"What?"

"You need an anchor, to remind yourself that you're human. To pull yourself back."

Derek scowled. "That's not the way it works."

"Maybe not for you, mister born werewolf. But the rest of us need an anchor."

Styles ignored their bickering and closed his eyes. He tried picturing his dad first - his quiet strength, his smile, his hugs, their never-ending battle over cholesterol. It didn't work. If anything, it brought the wolf out more - the desire to protect his father overwhelming. 

So instead, he thought of his mother. Her laugh, her long, graceful hands, the way she'd taught him to bake, the way she'd always smelled of sunflowers. The way she'd kept going, determined to put on a brave face even as the cancer treatments literally burned her away. The soft sigh of her last exhaled breath. The way it hadn't rained for her funeral, even though Stiles thought the heavens themselves should have wept at her passing. 

Stiles felt human again. Completely, irrevocably human. He was also crying. Awesome. 

"Are you all right, Stiles?" Derek asked, more concerned than Stiles thought he could really handle right now. 

"Yeah. Yeah I'm fine. The cigarette smoke is just making my eyes water, that's all," he explained lamely. 

Derek looked distinctly uncomfortable, like he had no idea what to do with a crying teenager. "Look, it's after midnight. Why don't we call it a night so you can get some sleep?"

"Yeah. Yeah, ok." Stiles took the out gratefully. "Where um. Where am I sleeping?"

"Guest bedroom, first room on the left after the bathroom. The master suite has its own bathroom, feel free to use the one in the hallway."

"Yeah, ok. Thanks. Are we having group breakfast again tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Do you mind if I make some muffins? I make really good muffins."

"You can use whatever is in the cupboard."

"Yeah, ok. Thanks." 

Stiles realized he sounded like a broken record. He shuffled past Isaac and into the house, grabbing his things and heading straight for the shower. He smelled rank, and had dirt and leaves and who knew what else on his jeans. He'd be running around in the woods in his boxers from now on, or he'd run out of good clothes.

The hot water felt amazing on his skin. He stood there and let it run off him, wishing this was over and done with. When he'd killed Peter he'd thought it was finally over. Then he'd been almost immediately nabbed by the Argents, and everything had sort of slid downhill from there. He'd mostly blocked out memories of the full moon, and how they'd tortured him until Chris Argent figured out what his fellow underlings were up to and put a stop to it. Stiles still wasn't ready to really trust the guy, but he'd been better to Stiles than any of the other hunters, so Stiles had to give him credit for at least attempting to be a decent human being. When you had relatives like Gerard and Kate, that was saying something.

Stiles dried off with one of Derek's towels, which were huge and fluffy and brown, probably so they wouldn't show dirt. He found the guest room and threw his bag down in the corner haphazardly. Then he flipped of the light and all but threw himself on the bed. He was exhausted, but he wasn't at all tired. It was like now that he'd let himself think of his mother, memories of her had been unleashed from his subconscious like a torrent of melancholy.

He was lonely. It was cold in this bed, all by himself, even with all the covers pulled up around him. He missed his mother. And yes, he knew he was being pathetic, but it wasn't like there was anyone around to see. That was part of the problem. 

He finally fell asleep after several hours of tossing and turning. He didn't sleep well. He kept having these super vivid dreams about nothing specific, and woke up feeling panicked and uneasy only to drift off into another one a few minutes later.

The weirdest one was when he was a wolf, like Derek had been, and he was running all over the house, looking for something. He didn't know what it was, just that he had to find it. It was important. If he could just find it, he could go to sleep. Which was stupid, because he was asleep. Except he hadn't found what he was looking for.

Eventually he flopped down on the couch, completely exhausted from his dream running. His wolf sniffed deeply at the couch cushions, and immediately relaxed. Everything was going to be alright. He'd found it.

Stiles curled up on the couch with a contented little sigh, and feel asleep with the scent of mate filling his nostrils.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Language, mentions of cutting, mentions of enabling, references to canon minor character death. Jackson feels.
> 
> More made up stuff about pack bonding and scenting; some based on actual wolf research, some based on popular fanon. Enjoy!

Chapter 7  
  
Derek  


            
          Stiles wasn't in his bed when Derek went to wake him so he could help with breakfast.  Derek frowned. It was extremely early - the rest of his pack was still sleeping. He'd taken the liberty of texting Stiles' pack last night; the ones who hadn't come over to keep Stiles company should be arriving in about three hours. They had a hell of a lot of food to make in that time.  
            
          He found Stiles curled up on the couch, alone. Specifically, he was curled around the part of the couch Derek always sat in. That whole cushion basically reeked of him, and yet Stiles was clinging to it like it was a treasured childhood blanket. That...was kind of odd. Stiles found his scent comforting?  
            
          "Stiles," he called, not wanting to shake the other Alpha awake.  
            
          "Stiles."  
            
          There was no response. Derek reached out gingerly, knowing there was a good chance he was about to get his arm bitten off, and shook Stiles' shoulder.  Stiles didn't bite his arm off. Instead, he let out this little happy sound, and nuzzled into Derek's hand.  
            
          Derek sighed, and shook him harder. "Stiles. Get up."  
            
          Stiles opened his eyes mid nuzzle. He pulled away, his whole face going red. "Ah. Sorry about that. I'm awake, what's up?"  
            
          "Your pack didn't stay with you?" Derek said that a little more sharply than he was intending, but he was genuinely upset. Stiles was obviously attention deprived if he was cuddling with Derek.  
            
          "No. We're not like, joined at the hip or anything."  
            
          "I didn't say that. They left you here, in a strange pack's home, by yourself. We could have killed you."  
            
          "Look, you're the one who's making me stay here, and you're the one who doesn't want anyone but Scott staying the night. He shouldn't have to stay here with me every night."  
            
          "My pack sleeps together every night."  
            
          "And honestly? That's a little creepy. So why don't you stop judging my pack when they're not here to defend themselves, and tell me what you woke me up for?"  
            
          "Breakfast."  
            
          "Oh. Right. Is there coffee?" Stiles looked like he hadn't slept at all.  
            
          "Get up and get dressed or brush your teeth or whatever. There will be some in about five minutes." God knew Derek needed a cup or three to wake up in the morning.  
            
          He stumbled into the kitchen and started the coffee maker, brewing all twelve cups.   If Stiles' metabolism was anything like his own, they'd need the full pot between them.  Then he started pulling out all the food he needed to prep for breakfast.  They were going to have dirty omelets, toast, bacon and muffins.  They needed at least three dozen eggs, three packages of bacon, and an entire loaf of bread, plus whatever Stiles would need for the muffins.  

    Once the coffee maker was done, he poured himself a cup and drank the entire thing black, hot enough to burn his mouth  Then he made a second one and also poured a mug for Stiles, before starting the long process of prepping enough omelet ingredients for eleven people.

    Stiles came into the kitchen a few minutes later, showered and in clean clothes.  He still smelled a little like Derek, and he'd used the shampoo that Isaac had left in the guest bathroom, so he was a mixture of their scents.  Derek would be lying if he said he didn't find that a little bit appealing.  He'd only been training the kid for a couple days, and he was already seriously considering adding him to their pack.  If Stiles was interested, anyway.

    “Poured you some coffee.  Didn't know how you liked it,”  Derek said, trying to sound pleasant, and only barely succeeding.

    “Yeah, thanks.”

    They kept to themselves in the kitchen, Derek chopping up vegetables and setting them aside, Stiles humming or talking to himself under his breath as he measured flour, oil and other ingredients and started mixing enough muffin batter to fill every pan that Derek owned.  It was peaceful, even if Stiles seemed incapable of being completely silent or still at any one point in time.

    Derek had just gotten all the vegetables prepped, when Stiles stopped humming, and this sort of shaking little sound took its place.  Misery and pain started pouring off Stiles in waves.  Derek looked up, worried that he'd cut himself or something.  
            
          Stiles was crying again.  
            
          "Sorry. Sorry, I can't help it. Hormones. I can blame it on hormones, right?" He sounded wrecked.  
            
          Derek found himself pulling the boy into a hug. Stiles went without protesting, fisting his hands in Derek's shirt and sobbing into his shoulder.  
            
          "Of course you can. It's going to be alright, Stiles. Whatever it is, it's going to be alright." He tried doing the circular motion thing he did on Isaac's back when his lover was upset. It seemed to work, because Stiles stopped crying a few minutes later, his eyes red and blotchy.  
            
          "Thanks," Stiles said. "Sorry I lost it. It's just, these are my mom's muffins, and I haven't made them since she died." He let out this little broken laugh. "I try not to think about it much. But she makes me feel human, so I haven't been able to stop thinking about her since last night."  
            
          Derek felt a wrench of agony in his own stomach. He knew that feeling all to well. "Isaac was wrong. It is possible to have control with anchoring yourself to a specific person. It can be a feeling, or even an extreme force of will. Using a person is easier, but I can teach you control without you having to—to go through that every time."  
            
              Stiles started filling each of the muffin tins with batter. "Thanks. I'd really appreciate that."

    The other Alpha pulled himself together by the time Erica and Boyd had come downstairs.  He wasn't humming any more, but he wasn't crying either.  Derek made a point to gently run a hand along Stiles' spine in front of his pack.  Stiles was startled at first, but then he sort of leaned into Derek's touch and closed his eyes.  After that, Erica came over and gave Stiles a hug and rubbed her cheek against his, and Boyd ran his hand across Stiles' head and down one arm.  Stiles smiled and scent marked them back, without even a hint of aggression.  Derek considered this more than adequate progress and a damn good sign about the possibility of merging their packs together.

    “So um.  The first batch of these is ready to go in,”  Stiles said, after Erica let him out of his hug.

    “Smells great,”  Erica said, smiling.  “You need any more help with them?”

    “No.  Just help me remember to take em out in about ten minutes?”

    “No problem,”  Boyd agreed, heading over to help Derek start cooking the bacon.

    “Your pack should be here soon, Stiles.  Do you have any idea what they like in their omelets?”

    “Meat for everyone except Lydia – veggies and low fat cheese if you have it, or none.  She'll bitch about them not being made with egg whites, but she'll still eat it.  Veggies and probably ham for Allison.  I'll eat anything in mine – I'm starving.”

    “Yeah.  It'll take you awhile to get used to the increased metabolism.  You've got the healing, so you've probably got the metabolism too.  You'll gain muscle mass easier too.”

    “I'm gonna be ripped? Glad something good is coming out of this whole mess.”

    “Well,” Isaac said wryly as he swung his way into the room, “You're tall and lanky like me, so you probably won't be ripped, but you'll be less scrawny.”

    “I'm not scrawny!”  Stiles protested, as Derek went over to give his lover a kiss.

    “Sit down before you fall over,”  Derek told him, and helped him over to the table.  Isaac made a face, but let Derek guide him over to the table and sit down.

    Isaac reached out and tugged Stiles over to him by his belt loops.  Stiles gave out this little yelp, and stared at Isaac with wide eyes as he reached up and rubbed his hand along Stiles' face and jaw.

    “H-hey Isaac, what's up?”  Stiles' eyes were glowing an angry red, but he hadn't moved to hurt Isaac in any way, and his expression was carefully neutral.

    “Everyone else scent marked you.  I wanted to, too.  Is this bothering you?”

    “Uh.  A little?  I think it's more like...you're Derek's, and he's another Alpha, and having you touch me is kinda making my wolf think he's gonna rip me apart,”  Stiles explained, waving his hands around in huge, anxious gestures.

    “I'm not going to hurt you, Stiles.  It's good.  I was hoping you might...join our pack, if you wanted to.  Seeing how you reacted to our scent marking you is sort of a first step.”

    Stiles eyes grew wide.  “You want me to join your pack?  It's been like – three days!”

    “It's not something I'm expecting to happen right away.  I just wanted to let you know the option is open, to you and your whole pack.  It'll take years for me to really teach you how to be an Alpha.  If you wanted to join with us – we wouldn't mind.”

    Derek's pack gave nods of agreement.  Stiles scratched the back of his head nervously, but the red glow faded out of his eyes.  “I.  I'm not sure yet.  But thanks for offering.  I'll let my pack know.”

    Speaking of Stiles' pack, there they were now.  Derek could hear the engines coming up the road; two cars, so they had all come together.  They parked, and there was a brief but hushed and intense conversation about why no one had stayed with Stiles last night.  They eventually sorted it out, and came inside.  Scott and Allison were first, and Allison made a great show of putting her weapons by the door.  Honestly Derek wasn't even sure why she kept bringing them, since she knew he'd make her leave them behind.  He couldn't help respecting her for always being prepared to protect her pack, even if she was a hunter.

    Scott came right over to Stiles and wrapped him up in an enthusiastic bro-hug.  Scott took a long whiff of Stiles' hair, and then looked up at Derek's pack suspiciously.  “Why do you smell like them?”

    “Uh...I am sleeping here you know.”

    “Yeah, but, dude, you really smell like them.”

    The oven timer went off, and Stiles escaped to the stove.  Derek shook his head at Stiles' deliberate avoidance of the issue, and ran his hand across Scott's head.  Scott whipped around with a half snarl, glaring at him.  Derek just raised an eyebrow.  Erica went over to Allison and casually slung an arm around her shoulder, and Boyd ruffled Stiles' hair while Isaac smirked at Scott.

    “Really?  This is a thing we're doing now?”  Scott asked, incredulously.

    “Just go with it,” Stiles said.

    “Just go with what?”  Jackson asked crossly.

    “Stiles is letting Derek's pack scent mark us.  So...we're like honorary Hale pack members while they're training Stiles.”

    Eh, close enough.  Derek went with it.  “Everyone come get their omelets before they get cold.”

    His pack went first, getting their food and then sitting down.  Boyd got a plate for Isaac and brought it over to him while Stiles started handing out muffins.  Since he'd already marked Scott once, Derek didn't push it, just gave him his food and let him sit down.  For Allison and Lydia, he went for a casual brush against their backs, which they both took with varying levels of attitude.  Allison just sort of gave him this look, while Lydia squirmed, made a face, and complained about her omelet not being made of egg whites, just like Stiles said she would.

    Jackson wouldn't let Derek mark him at all.  “Don't -” he warned with a snarl, before he even came close enough for Derek to touch.  “You might have everyone else convinced you're not as bad as your uncle, but I just–just don't touch me.”

    Derek didn't push him, just gave him his omelet, got his own, and sat down.  Everyone looked a little strained at Jackson's outburst, until Stiles cracked a terribly weak joke and broke the ice again. Derek didn't say much during the breakfast, but he planned on pulling Jackson aside for a talk as soon as he could get the others occupied.  It wasn't healthy for a wolf to be as alone as Jackson made himself, but he wouldn't even let his own pack touch him.  He smelled of guilt and pain and fear, even though he hid it fairly well on the outside with anger.  He did let Lydia touch him, and leaned his head on her shoulder about half-way through breakfast.  She scratched at his head absently, but his scents did not become more pleasant.  Jackson was on his way to omega, and fast, if he didn't let someone else in.

    After breakfast, Stiles' pack helped with the cleanup, just as they had done the last time.  Then Derek convinced everyone to go outside, with some difficulty, and arranged a match of Ultimate Frisbee between Scott, Stiles, Erica and Boyd.  Lydia just stared at him when he asked her if she'd like to play, and Allison and Isaac agreed to be referees, while Isaac explained the werewolf version of the game to Stiles' pack.  He was smoking again, which gave away his tension, but he appeared to be handling it well on the outside.  When this was all over, Derek was going to help him quit, but for now, smoking was better than cutting himself.  Even if Derek did feel horribly guilty at rationalizing it that way.

    “Jackson.  I need to talk to you,”  Derek said, his eyes glowing red briefly as he used his natural aura of authority to intimidate Jackson into following him out to the front of the house.  He didn't even bother trying to talk him into it; Jackson seemed ornery at best, and except for intimidation, he really had no way of making the Beta do what he wanted.

    “About what?”  Jackson snapped, his irritation showing through the compulsive need to follow the Alpha's orders.

    “I need to know what Peter did to you.”  
      
    “Fuck off.”

    Derek fought the urge to pound his head up against something.  “Jackson, you have to let people in.  At least your own pack.  You're a werewolf now.  If you don't bond with them, you'll fall to omega.”

    “They're not my pack!”  Jackson insisted, his eyes a wild yellow.  “I'm not even friends with them.  I got dragged into this whole mess because I just – I just wanted to be as good as Scott.  He had all this unnatural power, and I wanted it too.  But it didn't work right.  I ended up being the kanima and I killed – fuck, I killed a lot of people.  So now Scott and Stiles and everyone thinks they have to be nice to me or I'll go crazy and grow scales and kill everyone again.  I didn't ask for this shit  I've got enough going on without all this.”

    “Jackson, sit down.”  The teen's angry pacing was making Derek's head hurt.  “There are other packs you can join, you know.  You don't have to stay here, you don't have to be tied to them.”

    The kid looked like he'd never even considered the possibility.  “I don't?”

    “No.  It's important you have a pack where you feel you belong, with people you care about and you can let care about you.  A pack is supposed to be like family.”

    Jackson made a rude noise.  “Yeah.  Our pack is more like a foster home.  We all just got stuck with each other.”

    “Is there anywhere you wanted to go, some place you were planning on going to college, but you haven't because of the situation here?”

    “Yeah.  My dad wants me to go to London, but I figured, because of...everything, I couldn't go.”

    “Do you know where in London? I have friends there.  I could get you in touch with the local pack, get you a mentor who'd help make sure you keep everything under control.”

    Jackson's face was unreadable.  “You'd do that...for me?”  His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?”

    Derek sighed.  “Beacon Hills is my territory, Jackson.  If the Argent's don't do their job and keep it under control when I'm gone, that means whatever happened is my responsibility.  What happened to you kids shouldn't have been allowed to take place.  I should have been here.  The least I can do is try to fix it now.”

    “You're not like your uncle, are you.”

    “No.  I'm not.”  That was both a burden, and a relief.  “So, you don't get along with Stiles and Scott right?  How'd you like to be on my pack's team for frisbee?”

    Jackson actually smiled.  “And get to shove their faces in the dirt? Yeah, I can do that.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, long chapter!
> 
> Warnings: Language, mentions of self destructive behavior, mentions of enabling, angst, rimming.
> 
> Please see the end notes for a more detailed rant/headcannon/explanation, but there is a sex scene in this chapter between an asexual and a demisexual character. As per the previous disclaimers; I am not asexual, I've merely done research, asked people I know who are asexual, and looked up guides on how to safely pursue sex with an asexual person. Nothing here is meant to offend, and if it has, please feel free to leave a comment or contact me via my tumblr.
> 
> Beta'd, as always, by the lovely DangerousCommieSubversive

Isaac  


  
     It had been an interesting week. Interacting with Stiles' pack was both stressful and yet somehow fun. They each had their own quirks, and yet, aside from Jackson, Isaac could easily see any of them becoming regular members of their pack.  
   
     Even Jackson would be welcome if he wasn't so obviously uncomfortable being there.  He'd already voiced his intentions to move to London in a few weeks, and he and Lydia were pulling away from Stiles' pack as time went on. Isaac thought there was a good possibility that Lydia would go with him - there was a special bond between the two of them that they just didn't share with the rest of the pack. Alison and Lydia seemed close, but not close enough to keep her here, instead of with Jackson.  
   
     Scott and Allison were integrating into Derek's pack like they were meant to be there. Scott seemed thrilled to have other werewolves to talk to that weren't Jackson, and Allison actually seemed to enjoy their company, even though she was a hunter. Apparently she was new to the whole hunting thing, and was much more interested in learning how to protect a werewolf pack than kill one. After an initial distrusting phase, Derek had started talking strategy with her.  
   
     Stiles, on the other hand, seemed unhappy. It was hard to get a lock on his scent with all the conflicting Alpha and human hormones he was producing, but Isaac would get whiffs of longing, misery, and loneliness.  
   
     As far as Isaac could tell, there was no apparent reason for those kinds of feelings. He was training with Derek, going on long runs every day, and for the last two nights, he and his pack had joined Derek in one large pile in Derek's room.  The only thing he could think of was that Stiles had been abruptly pulled from his human life and family. Isaac, Erica and Boyd had had few connections with their families, but Stiles still talked to his dad every day, sometimes for hours. He'd already decided to talk to Derek about it if Stiles didn't cheer up in the next few weeks. He liked Stiles. He didn't want his future pack brother to be hurting that badly.  
   
    Currently, he had more pressing issues.  Today he was getting his stitches out and hopefully getting the okay to walk on his leg again. After the first two days, Isaac's normal healing factor had kicked in, and he'd healed in a matter of hours. Derek had insisted he keep both splint and bandages on for the full week, and after waking up twice to see dark circles under Derek's eyes that Isaac had caused by not taking care of himself properly, Isaac had agreed.  
   
     He was really, really looking forward to getting the go ahead though. Not just because Derek had promised to mate them officially if he did - well, okay, it was mostly that. But he'd also been watching the others run around and roughhouse and run through the woods with Derek, and Isaac wanted to do those things too.  
   
     So now he was sitting on the edge of Deaton's examination table, fighting off the urge to swing his legs like a little kid. Isaac blamed Stiles.  The Alpha was here, standing against the wall nervously while trying desperately to appear nonchalant.  Derek was here too, because there was no way that Isaac was doing anything injury related without his lover there. The rest of the pack was out doing pack things, likely planning Jackson and Lydia's not-so-surprise going away party. Isaac had assured them all he was going to be fine, and he didn't need them all crowding into the tiny backroom and annoying Deaton.  
       
         "Alright Isaac, ready to get these stitches out?" Deaton asked cheerfully.  
       
         "Yes, please."  Isaac said eagerly, and held his leg out for the doctor.  
       
         Deaton carefully unwrapped the brace and bandages, setting them aside to burn later. After an unfortunate incident with witches, they never left anything with their blood on it lying around any more.    
       
         The wound had healed up extremely well. Deaton felt around his bone and leg muscles just to be sure, but within minutes he was cutting the edge of the stitches and removing them carefully with a pair of tweezers.  
       
         "This looks much better. I'd go easy on it the first couple of days in case your muscle re-grew a little weaker, but you should be all set. Try to be careful in training from now alright?"  
       
         "I will. Thanks."  He hopped down of the table and shook Deaton's hand. "See you around."  
       
         "For a more positive reason, I hope," the doctor said with a smile.  
       
         They left together, Derek on his right side, his hand twitching every now and then like he wanted to grab Isaac right there in the street, and Stiles on his left. He felt extremely safe between the two Alphas, even if Stiles was still working on getting his new powers under control. Just in the last week he'd put on a considerable amount of muscle mass, his transformation from the werewolf hormones more drastic than any Isaac had seen other than Erica. His body apparently didn't know it was still human, because Stiles had grown two inches until he was of a height with Derek, and he'd bulked out quite a bit, and would probably continue to if he kept exercising. Apparently Alpha hormones didn't care what your original body type was, Alpha's were tall, lean and ripped. That should cheer Stiles up, if only a little. Isaac had seen him checking himself out in the mirror.  
       
         They took Stiles'  jeep back to the house, because Stiles insisted on driving himself everywhere. His jeep was beat to hell, dented and scratched, and in one place definitely sporting a gouge from werewolf claws, but he treated it like a queen. Listening to Stiles praise and treasure it like a particularly fickle girlfriend made Isaac chuckle. He'd just never been that attached to cars. The motorcycle Derek had bought him for his eighteenth birthday, well, that was an entirely different matter, but that was back at their house in Marin with Derek's Camaro. They always got a rental for their drives up to Beacon Hills.

    There was mail waiting for them when they got back to the house. Specifically, boxes of express mailed photography equipment, courtesy of Ganner.  Stiles helped them bring in all the boxes, with Derek already fussing over his equipment, taking it out and carefully inspecting everything to make sure none of it had been damaged.  
       
         Isaac let out a whoop of joy when he saw the magazine that Rose had tucked into one of the boxes. It was the advance issue of the magazine, and Isaac was on the cover.  It was the first time since he'd started modeling there that he'd had a cover shot and an entire sixteen page spread, including the very tasteful and sexy nude centerfold Derek had shot of him.  
       
         Stiles shamelessly looked at the magazine over his shoulders, his eyes going wide when he realized that, yes, that really was a soft-core gay werewolf porn magazine that Isaac had posed for.  Isaac just grinned at him.  
       
         "Is that-?"  
       
         "Yup. Don't I look awesome?"  
       
         He let Stiles take the magazine and flip through the photos. It wasn't hard to catch the scent of Stiles' arousal, even through the Alpha hormones. Isaac didn't mind. Derek had done the whole spread, and he'd fine a fantastic job. Isaac liked modeling any way, there was something extremely freeing about having people pay money to see you naked, but the best part was getting to shoot with Derek. The other photographers were good, but they were nothing like Derek. He never got distracted by lust during a shoot, patiently considering lighting and composition while everyone else oogled the model. Not that that happened a lot; they were professionals after all, but it did happen.  
       
        "Wow. These are. Wow."  
       
         "Derek's the best." Isaac said proudly.  
       
         If anything, Stiles' eyes grew even wider. He started at Derek in awe. "You shot these?"  
       
         Derek gave him an irritated glare from where he was carefully inspecting his box of lenses and filters.  
       
         "What? You don't exactly scream 'artist.'"  
       
         "Actually he only does photography part-time. He's got a sculpture studio too. People pay ridiculous amounts of money for his work. He does wire sculpture and found-art pieces, and works in bronze sometimes. He even does jewelry sometimes. I've got an awesome lapis lazuli pendant set in silver, somewhere. I might have brought it with me; I'll show you sometime."  
       
         "Seriously?" Stiles looked impressed. "That's actually amazing. I guess I can see him doing the brooding artist thing."  
       
         "Derek's full of hidden talent." Isaac grinned at Derek's bitchface. "We're actually doing a shoot in a few minutes, if you wanna watch?"  
   
    “Hell yes!”    
      
    xxx  
      
    The photo shoot took almost four hours. Derek wanted to capture Isaac from every angle, because after tonight, they'd be mated. Not only would Ganner and Rose demand pictures, Derek and Isaac would want them as well.  
      
    Derek took a number of photos of them together, setting the aperture and iso settings and then controlling the flash and angle of the camera with a small wireless transmitter he kept out of the shoot in the palm of his hand. Stiles reeked of desire by the time the shoot ended, which Isaac was trying not to feel smug about.  
      
    After the shoot was over, Derek made Stiles go outside and work on his meditation while he put away his equipment and gathered what they would need for the ritual. Isaac took the opportunity to smoke the last cigarettes he'd be getting until at least tomorrow and then head upstairs to wash.  
      
    Isaac showered while Derek got ready, being careful of his leg. It still ached a little bit, and the muscles were definitely weaker than they had been before. Isaac resigned himself to another week of slowly stretching his muscles back into place. It was even remotely possible the leg would never fully heal, though he'd never tell Stiles that. The last time he'd taken this long to heal from an injury, it had been delivered from silver claws dipped in wolfsbane. The hunter who'd given him the wound had ripped out a good portion of his back, and it had left a wicked scar. Isaac was surprised Stiles hadn't asked about it during the shoot. Derek didn't usually let it be photographed, and when he did, it was almost always edited out later.  
      
    Once he was clean and dressed, he met Derek downstairs. His lover had a duffel that should contain everything they needed. "Ready to go?"  
      
    "Yeah."  
      
    They didn't take a car to the site, walking instead. Isaac suggested they run, but Derek just glared at his leg and Isaac's barely perceptible limp and kept walking. They walked for a little over an hour, until they were deep in the Hale territory, somewhere between the old house and the new one. Derek led them right up to the entrance of a cave, old and worn, with a triskellion carved next to the entrance.  
      
    "A cave?"  
      
    "It's ancestral," Derek explained, putting his duffel bag down and pulling out supplies. "This spot is ideal for magic casting. It intersects two major ley lines and is the most magically concentrated spot for three hundred miles in any direction. Everyone in my family has been mated here."  
      
    "Oh."  
      
    "So...you just draw a circle and we burn some herbs and you say some magic words and we're mated?"  Isaac asked, trying to cut through the tension.  
      
    Derek looked more than a little irritated. "It's a bit more sacred than that, but yeah."  
      
    "Sorry."  
      
    "It's fine. Just get a fire going while I set this up, okay? It's going to be dark soon."  
      
    "Yeah, okay."  
      
    Isaac spent the next half hour gathering firewood, finding dead trees and ripping them apart with his claws until they had a stack of firewood that would last all night. They wouldn't need the heat, or even really the light or the flames to keep animals away. They were the biggest predators around here. But it was comforting to have the warm flickering flames there, and it soothed the human side of him even as his wolf howled in joy at the scent of mate and magic building in the cave.  
      
    He went back to where Derek was, setting the mostly finished circle gouged out into the rock. In the center was a brasier, one of the old fashioned ones that heated from a candle placed underneath it. The candle was handmade and smelled of pine and earth, a little like Ganner, who'd probably made it, and had just a touch of wolfsbane.  
      
    Next to the brasier there were little leather pouches of something, probably herbs by the smell. Isaac had no idea what the herbs were, but they smelled strongly of magic and Derek and a little bit like smoke and ash. Were these from Derek's old house? If the magic was specific to Derek's family he supposed that made sense, but it was also kind of depressing.  
      
    There was a handmade clay cup next to the herbs, a clay bowl filed with water, and a natural stone mortar and pestle that Isaac was curious about, but he didn't ask, just came over to Derek and pressed his hands gently against his lover's bare shoulders.  
      
    "We need to be naked for this." He told Isaac, undoing his jeans.  
      
    "I figured."  Isaac stepped out off his clothes and left them folded on the ground next to Derek's.  
      
    They both stepped inside of the circle, which was large enough for both of them to stretch out in and not breach the lines.  Derek finished it off with one claw, and a shiver ran down Isaac's spine, though whether it was magic or just anticipation he really couldn't say.  
      
    "What now?"  
      
    "Now we start. Sit."  He folded his legs under himself, Indian style, and Isaac did the same.  
      
    Derek poured herbs from each bag onto the brasier, going slowly and carefully, pouring out what looked like an exact amount.  Then he stirred them together and lit the candle.  
      
    He took out two lumps of yellow something from one of the bags, and put it into the pestle where he ground it into a paste. From the cup he poured a red viscous liquid that smelled strongly of berries, and added just a touch of water, before grinding the entire thing into an orange paste.  
      
    The herbs had started to burn now, giving off a thick, rich musk into the air that made Isaac feel a little light headed. Derek put two fingers into the paste and drew what looked like a slightly more convoluted triskellion over his heart, and then reached over to do the same thing to Isaac. As he did so, he spoke,  
      
    "Animi anima lupum lupus, tuus sum ego, et vos mei, per omnia saecula saeculorum." The words rolled off Derek's tongue, in heavy Latin, coming out almost as a growl, and reeking of magic.  
      
    Isaac gasped as heat and cold flashed through him, and he suddenly felt vertigo, like someone had yanked him out of his body and then snapped him back in. He could feel Derek now, more than before, a brighter presence than before, could feel the absolute joy that was running through him right now, and the thread of sadness that never left him, that smelled like ashes and death and shattered dreams.  
      
    Before he knew it he was in Derek's lap, kissing him for all he was with, barely cognizant enough not to knock over any of the ceremonial implements. Derek pinched out the candle and pushed them all aside, and then his hands found Isaac's hips and he was pressing kisses into Isaac's neck.  
      
    Derek flipped Isaac over into his back, and lapped his way down Isaac's body, pausing to lap thoughtfully at Isaac's cock before moving on.     

    “Do you mind?”  Derek asked, as he ran his tongue between Isaac's legs.

    “Do I mind?  Why would I – oh.  Oh that is your tongue.  On my.  Oh.  No.  No I don't mind that at all.”

    Isaac pushed himself up on his hands and knees and spread his legs so Derek would have better access.  Derek made this little whine, and his hand curled around Isaac's waist to grasp his cock firmly. Isaac let out a deep breath, leaned back into Derek's tongue, only to jerk forward into his hand when Derek started stroking him to offset the gentle laps and questing nudge of his tongue.  His very fucking talented tongue.  Holy shit.

    “You know, that should be gross.  But it's really – oh – really – fuck.  Yes.  Oh, god, yes.  Oh just like that.  Aaaah fuck.”

    Normally, Isaac was all about stamina.  They always made love for hours.  But Derek had never mated him before, and he'd never done that, and it was all just too much for him.  With a stifled shout, he came in Derek's hand, and then shook in pleasure as Derek moved his mouth down and licked his come off him.

    Isaac fell back into Derek's lap after that, and realized Derek was hard.  Extremely hard.  In fact, Isaac didn't know if he'd ever felt Derek this aroused, even on the few occasions his lover had actually gotten off before.

    “Derek?”

    “I think...I'd like to fuck you.”  Derek said, and almost sounded surprised himself.

    “You think?”

    “This hasn't happened to me before.”  Derek confessed.  “Not since...”

    “Don't think about her, it'll kill the mood.”

    Derek buried his face in Isaac's shoulder and nipped at the soft, vulnerable skin there.  Isaac shuddered.  “I definitely don't want to do that.”

    “It's going to take me a minute to get hard again,” Isaac confessed.  Healing factors helped cut the refractory period, but he wasn't an Alpha.  

    “Since when have I ever liked quick sex?”  Derek asked, and then answered his own question by pulling Isaac back into his arms for deep, passionate kisses.  His mouth didn't taste bad at all, considering where it'd just been, and it actually kind of turned Isaac on that Derek wanted to kiss him after all that.

    They made out for a while, Derek rubbing his erection against Isaac's ass until Isaac was ready again.  He prepped Isaac slowly, taking his time for this just like he did everything else, so by the time he'd fit three fingers inside, Isaac was practically begging Derek to fuck him.  

    “I don't want to hurt you.  We've never done this before.”

    “I'm ready.  I'm fine.  I heal faster now, remember? So even if it's – ooooooooh god.”  Isaac moaned, as Derek cut him off by finally, finally pushing into him.

    It felt – good.  Obviously.  It wasn't at all what he'd been expecting.  It hurt a little, even with all the prep Derek had done, but it probably would have been a lot worse if he wasn't a werewolf.  As it was, even the pain just sort of – amplified everything.  It made him want to scream.  They were miles away from everyone, so he did, letting himself whine and whimper and howl and scream as Derek took him.

    “Fuck, you make the best noises, Isaac.”  Derek gasped, and his hips thrust forward a little harder than Isaac was expecting, letting out a grunt.

    The grunt turned into another scream of pleasure as Derek buried his teeth into Isaac's neck as deep as he was buried in Isaac's body.  That was all it took, and he was coming again, spilling all over himself and the ground, and panting as Derek's hips jerked frantically, and then his lover came inside him, his teeth still in Isaac's neck.  Then they both sort of collapsed onto the ground, Derek unable to hold them up any longer.

    They laid there together on the cave floor, and Derek slowly withdrew his teeth.  Isaac shuddered.  It didn't hurt at all – it felt good in a raw, over-sensitized way, similar to how it felt when Derek pulled out of him and wetness dripped down between Isaac's thighs.  Derek pulled him close and lapped at the swiftly healing wound in Isaac's neck.

    “Wow.  That was fucking awesome.”  Isaac breathed.  “Do you think – I mean.  Um.  Not to be selfish or anything, but do you think that's likely to happen again any time soon?”

    Derek smirked and pressed his pelvis against Isaac's ass suggestively.  He wasn't hard, but from the pulse of blood running though his lover, that might change any moment.  “I'd say there's the distinct possibility.”

    “Good.  God.  We should have done this ages ago.”

    Derek laughed, and bent down to kiss him again, throwing a leg over Isaac's hips, and they started making love all over again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation to what Derek was saying in Latin: *Soul to soul, wolf to wolf, I am yours and you are mine, forever without end.
> 
> Disclaimer on the magic scene: I'm not a practicing witch, though I have researched the subject and asked a friend of mine to look at the scene and see if it was horribly offensive. I tried to follow general guidelines for magic rituals while still keeping it unique.
> 
> About the sex:
> 
> In my fic Derek is an homoromantic asexual. According to the research I have done, that does not necessarily mean that he will never feel sexual arousal, only that he will not find a person sexually attractive. He may be aroused by touch, by seeing and act that is arousing, as long as it is not actually a person causing the arousal, or because of a strong emotional attachment. Isaac and Derek have never had penetrative sex before, because while Isaac may want to, Derek has never felt comfortable. However, they were just mated, and that is something that Derek has wanted for a very, very long time. Something permanent with his lover. I feel that he would be aroused by this new, deep and stable emotional connection to the point that he could be aroused enough for penetrative sex, and could get off, because he could still be aroused by the act of having penetrative sex. Again, I'm not asexual myself, but these are the conclusions I reached about the characters and the research I've done.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: language, self-hatred, angst. Lots and lots of angst.

Stiles  
            
              Stiles absolutely was not sulking. Brooding maybe. Protesting life in a manly fashion maybe. But not sulking.  
            
              And he wasn't pining either. Certainly not after Derek. That was all his wolf's fault. Stiles hadn't even thought Derek was attractive. Stiles wasn't even attracted to guys. Stiles was extremely good at lying to himself. He and denial were practically blood relatives.  
            
              There wasn't any reason for him to feel this way. It was stupid. He wasn't even a werewolf, so he shouldn't have all these werewolf-y feelings.  But apparently life hated him, because he'd become more and more inexplicably attracted to Derek over the time he'd been staying here. Derek's scent became associated with safety, and he couldn't even sleep any more without being pressed up against Derek, or Derek's clothes, in his absence.   
            
              When Derek and Isaac came back from their overnighter smelling of sex and each other, Stiles felt like someone kneed him in the balls. Seeing the claiming bite on Derek's neck (that his wolf recognized without explanation) caused such a visceral, physical pain that Stiles actually caught himself looking down to see if he was bleeding.   
            
              It was ridiculous. Werewolves aside, this wasn't some kind of Disney film. He wasn't a swooning princess, falling in love at first sight and needing the price to carry him off happily ever after. He just wanted to get his shit under control and go back to his normal life as soon as possible.   
            
              He was so fucking lonely. Even when he was surrounded by his friends, he felt hollow and empty inside. It was stupid. He felt emo and childish, but he couldn't help feeling like someone had ripped his heart out. Getting rejected by Lydia hadn't felt anywhere near as horrible as this.  
            
              Everyone noticed of course. He was a decent actor, but he was living with a house full of werewolves. Acting and excuses only got him so far.  
            
    He'd managed to be happy for Jackson and Lydia's going away party.  In Jackson's case, he really was glad the douche was leaving; even after everything, he just couldn't stand the guy, and if Jackson was happier living in London, even better.  He'd really miss Lydia.  Besides the fact that he had more than a little crush on her, Lydia was like a super efficient pack mom.  She always kept her head, knew what was going on when, and was always prepared.  They wouldn't be the same without her.  
  
              After they'd gone, he sort of lost interest in pretending things were okay. He did his meditation, suffered through exercising with Derek, bore his way through pack bonding time, and fell asleep curled up in a corner by himself, snarling when anyone tried to comfort him. They couldn't fix this, and Stiles didn't want them to try.  
            
              Scott was the one to finally force it out of him. They'd been best friends since practically forever, and yet Stiles was still not immune to the puppy eyes. He relented and went out on a really long run with Scott, until they were deep enough in the woods that no one could possibly overhear them.  Then Scott dragged Stiles over to a rock and sat down. Stiles grit his teeth together. He so did not want to talk about this.  
            
              "Stiles, dude, what's wrong?"  
            
              "I don't know what you're taking about."  
            
              "C'mon man, don't be like that. You haven't been happy since you became an alpha."  
            
              "I'm supposed to be happy about this?"  
            
              "Well. No. But you're really miserable. You smell so depressed it's making everyone else sad too. You won't even let us near you anymore. We just want to help Stiles."  
            
              "What's wrong with me can't be fixed."  
            
              "Don't be like that. It's not that bad. Once you get used to it -"  
            
              "I'm not going to get used to this! I feel like half of me is missing. Like someone ripped it out of me and gave it away. I'm bleeding, all the time, but there's no wound. I can't fucking do this anymore!"  
            
              Scott's eyes were wide. "What are you talking about?"  
            
              "I'm talking about what's wrong with me." Stiles snarled.  
            
              "But- that sounds like -"  
            
              "A broken mate bond. Yes. I know. I fucking did the research. Did you know that werewolves are actually capable of dying from a broken heart? Except I'm only sort of a werewolf, so instead of dying I'll probably just - erode."  
            
              "But- you haven't met anybody. No one's died. Nothings even happened except Isaac and Derek getting mated."  
            
              Stiles just looked at him miserably until he figured it out.  
            
              "Oh. Oh shit. You mean you bonded with one of them? Who?"  
            
              "Derek." Stiles said, and just saying his name made Stiles' chest ache.  
  
    "Fuck, man."  
            
              And that just summed up everything, really.  Stiles' inner wolf had decided that Derek was its one true partner, someone whom without it might literally die, and Stiles had no say in the matter whatsoever. He couldn't just say, hey why don't we fall irrevocably in love with someone else. But no. That would be reasonable and full of informed consent, which was something his life sorely lacked.  
            
              "I'm going to finish training with Derek, and then I'm leaving." Stiles said resolutely.   
            
              He'd thought about it a lot, and there just wasn't any other way. He didn't want to leave his friends, especially Scott, or his dad, who he tried really hard not to think about when he realized he was going to basically run away and die. There wasn't anything else he could do. Living with a broken mate bond was hell, and most werewolves died from it. There was no way to break it, no way to make it better. Derek wasn't his and never would be, and Stiles couldn't live with that.  
            
              "Stiles, no." Scott whined. He wasn't stupid. He knew what Stiles was going to do.  
            
              "I have to. There isn't any other way."  
            
              "You could tell them."  
            
              "And what good would that do? Isaac would literally kill me.  Or more likely, he'd try to but I'd kill him, because I'm a freaky venomous werewolf. And then Derek would kill me for killing his mate, and I'd be too overwhelmed with causing my mate that much pain, I'd just stand there and let him rip me apart. Does that sound like a good idea to you?"  
            
              "I don't know! There just had to be some other way Stiles. Some way for you to not just wander off in the woods to die. What would I do if you got killed because of all this werewolf shit, huh? I dragged you into this!"  
            
              "You didn't drag me into shit. I did it to protect you."  
            
              "I know! But that doesn't make me want to stop protecting you dude. You're my best friend, and my Alpha. I couldn't bear it if I let something happen to you."  
            
              "I'm not your Alpha," Stiles snapped. "I want you to - I need you to not fall to omega when I leave. You need to-"  
            
              Scott shoved him, hard. "Fuck you man. Stop trying to make contingency plans to take care of everyone in the event of your death! Fight this shit. Don't give up now!"  
            
              Stiles slumped over in defeat. "I'm tired Scott, okay? I'm so damn tired. After Peter, and Gerard and the kanima and just...everything, I just don't have any strength left. I'm exhausted. Is it too much to want you all to be okay after I'm gone?"  
            
              He was aware that there were tears in his eyes. Scott pulled him into a hug and Stiles went, burying his head in Scott's hoodie and the comforting scent of pack.   
            
              Scott sounded like he had years in his own eyes as he said, "I don't want you to die Stiles."  
            
              "I don't want to, either." He replied in a hoarse voice. Then he was silent, because there wasn't anything else to say.  
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst!! Derek's on the warpath.
> 
> Warnings for language (as usual!) and a slightly OOC Stiles; but hey, he's going out of his mind right now, so what more do you expect?
> 
> The rest of the fic has fairly short chapters, so I'll probably post them a bit closer together. Thanks to everyone who's followed this fic, left encouragement, and just plain made this fandom a fun place to write in!

Derek

Derek was furious. The full moon was only two days away, and Stiles was being a complete shit. He'd been miserable company since Isaac and Derek had come home from their mating ceremony, but he turned downright vicious after he'd run off with Scott for an evening. Derek had pressured Scott for details, but he hasn't gotten much. Scott had seemed eager to join Derek's pack before, but since talking with Stiles he'd withdrawn slightly from pack activities. Scott and Stiles had frequent silent conversations with each other, mainly achieved with glares, hand waving, and angry eyebrows. It irritated Derek that he had no idea what they were saying to each other, and it usually upset both of them, which only added to the tension in the house.

He was fairly certain he was going to have to chain his entire pack down for the full moon; something he'd never had to do. Usually his newest pack members gained control of their change within the first six months or so, but Stiles' anger and misery was affecting everyone, and Derek didn't even know if he'd be able to control himself, much less everyone else. He'd already installed the chains they'd need to keep Stiles under control, though if he was this unstable already, they might have to use the ropes and gag the Argent's had brought him in.

Stiles had refused to sleep with the rest of the pack last night, like he had for the last week and a half. Scott had slept next to him until Stiles had gotten up in the middle of the night and gone downstairs, and then Scott had huddled miserably next to Boyd until morning, tossing and turning and whimpering and generally keeping Derek awake. When they'd gotten up the next morning Stiles was nowhere to be found, but all the bacon was gone and there were only a few drops left of what looked to have been a full pot of coffee.

Scott had gone to look for him while the rest of the pack made breakfast. Isaac was in Derek's lap, feeding him scrambled eggs and trying unsuccessfully to cheer Derek up. Even the comforting scent of mate couldn't get rid of the stress headache he had from most of his pack and all of his adopted pack being unhappy.

"What the hell is that Stiles?!" Scott screeched from the direction of the garage. Apparently he'd found their wayward Alpha.

"It's a baseball bat." Stiles said, and there was a manic edge to his voice that Derek very much did not like. He pushed Isaac gently off his lap and headed out to the garage to see what Stiles had done now.

"Yeah, if it took steroids." Scott scoffed. "That thing is like, the Godzilla of baseball bats. And it stinks."

Derek's entire garage reeked of wolfsbane. He threw open the door with more force than strictly necessary, and bolted inside. His gaze latched onto the object causing so much fuss. It was a...baseball bat on steroids.

The entire thing was made of mountain ash, and had been coated with the same wolfsbane that Allison treated her arrows with. He'd probably stolen it from her. The grip was wrapped with leather, to keep Stiles' hands from blistering from the wolfsbane. The business end of the bat was, frankly, terrifying. Stiles had hammered at least a dozen nails through the wood, and filed them until they were razor sharp. Then he'd coated them in silver. He could probably kill a beta with that, and Derek found his whole body cringing just thinking about getting hit with it.

“What the hell is that, Stiles?” Derek growls, fully aware that Scott just asked that.

Stiles snarled at Derek, his eyes flashing red. Derek had to fight his wolf to keep from responding in kind. He was more mature than Stiles; he was the head Alpha here, he didn't have anything to prove. It had nothing to do with the fact that picking a fight with Stiles while he was holding that bat would be a tremendously bad idea.

“What does it look like? It's a weapon. You know, since I'm a defective werewolf and don't have claws to defend myself with?”

“You've got enormous teeth, Alpha level healing and you're venomous Stiles, what more protection do you want?”

“I want this bat. Obviously.”

“You don't need it.”

Stiles looked at him oddly. “How the hell do you know what I need? You don't know what kind of danger I'm going to be in. You can't guarantee my safety. I'm going to damn well be able to protect myself.”

“What are you talking about Stiles? There's nothing in Beacon Hills that would warrant carrying that thing around.”

Scott elbowed Stiles in the ribs. Stiles actually growled at him, and said, “I'm not staying in Beacon Hills.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “There's nothing you need that for in San Francisco either. There's much less supernatural drama there than there ever was here.”

“I'm not going to San Francisco, Derek.”

Scott was making all sorts of aborted facial expressions in Stiles' direction now. Stiles was completely ignoring him, staring at Derek with a challenge on his face, eyes bleeding red when he let his wolf surge forward.

“Stiles,” Derek grit out, “What are you talking about?”

“I'm not staying here, with this pack. I'm leaving after the full moon.”

Derek found himself stepping forward, his own eyes red and his fangs bared. “You're leaving? You can't just up and leave your pack Stiles. You're not ready; you've barely started your training.”

"Fuck you! You can't make me stay here! You're not my Alpha. I can do whatever the hell I want!" Stiles snarled. He looked like he was seriously considering ripping Derek's throat out.

“You're serious about this, aren't you.”

Stiles' hands tightened on his bat. “Yes, I'm fucking serious. And what the hell do you care anyways? Half my pack is gone, and Scott and Allison are going to be better off with you anyway. I'm not going to get better, I'm not going to get this shit under control. I know that, you know that, and we should really just stop pretending I'm anything other than a charity case. You can't even turn me at this point, because I'm already an Alpha and it wouldn't take. I bet the Argents just brought me to you because they hoped you'd put me down.”

"That's not true Stiles. It's my responsibility to teach and protect you. That's why the Argents brought you to me."

"I don't need you to protect me! We did just fine before you bothered to show up, and I'll do fine on my own!" Stiles swung the bat at him when he tried to step forward.

It was like he'd gone rabid - Derek couldn't get through to him at all. He didn't want to be touched, and he even snapped at Scott when the other wolf tried to restrain him. Like any change, there had always been a chance that Stiles' body would reject his new Alpha powers, but Derek hadn't expected this. If he let Stiles go, the Argents would hunt him down and execute him. But Stiles was an Alpha, and Derek couldn't force him to obey.

"Fine." He said through clenched teeth. "You want to go off on your own and get killed? Fine."

Derek walked away, because there was nothing else he could do. If Stiles wanted to die, then he'd die. Nothing Derek could do would change that. It wasn't his fault.

It wasn't his fault.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Short chapter! Angst. Feel the angst. Minor character death!!

Chapter 11

Isaac

Isaac volunteered for patrol for the third night in a row, just to get out of the house. Stiles had packed his things earlier that night and left on foot, leaving the keys to his Jeep and a long letter for his father in Scott's hands. Derek had been unbearable – he was angry and miserable, which only made him more angry. Isaac hadn't ever seen him like this before, mad at the world and everything in it, locking his pain behind a mask of stone cold fury. It was like he was a completely different person. Isaac had to get away from it, away from Derek's anger and Scott's despair and his own loneliness.

The past week with Stiles had been pretty horrible, since everyone knew he was leaving and he'd stopped trying to pretend anything else. The full moon had been wretched, with Scott and Stiles chained like dogs in their basement, Boyd and Erica barely under control, and Derek radiating so much anger and pain it was like someone was running their nails down the chalkboard of his soul. He'd genuinely liked Stiles, and before everything turned sour, and had really been looking forward to having him in their pack. Having him just...walk away like he had hurt - he'd already thought of Stiles as pack, and losing him made Isaac's wolf howl with loneliness and despair.

He focused on the run, on the feeling of the earth under his feet and the scent of pack and home and the invigorating feeling that always came with running through their own territory. This land had belonged to Derek's family for hundreds of years; it was tied to them and Isaac was tied to Derek, and tied to the land through Derek. It lent him strength, it wanted to protect him. There was nothing else like it.

His bliss was interrupted by a howl for aid - a pain filled cry that was cut short. It was Erica - she had been patrolling the northern border while he ran the southern border, and something had obviously happened to her. He shifted direction immediately, drawing strength from the earth and his own mate bond with Derek to run faster than he normally would. He let out a howl of his own - he was coming. Derek could find him through their bond, and Isaac had a heightened sense of the pack through his mate.

He headed straight toward Erica, hoping he wasn't too late. Her heart was pounding, the connection between them wavering. Whatever was happening, it wasn't going well. He strained himself, pushing himself to go faster. He was almost there - less than a mile now. If he could just -

His connection with Erica snapped, leaving a gaping void in its place. "No!"

His bad leg seized, and he tripped hard, landing face first on the ground with enough force to rattle his skull. He pushed himself up slowly, head swimming, blindly trying to reach Erica through the bond that was no longer there. His leg shook, refusing to bear his weight and he grimaced at his own weakness. It was supposed to be healed already. He gripped his calf until the muscle stopped spasming, and then carefully put some weight on it. When it held, he headed towards Erica.

The stink of a foreign Alpha filed Isaac's nostrils, and then there was a sharp kick to his bad leg and he was falling to the ground again, his nose filled with the smell of blood and death. Sharp claws dug into his throat as he was hauled up level with an angry female face.

"An alpha with a cripple as a mate. Disgraceful."

Isaac didn't even get a chance to reply before his insides lit up with a visceral, burning pain, and he heard his own voice contort into a wet, pained howl. Then everything went black.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is finally almost done!! Thank you so much to everyone who's encouraged me to get this far. A special thanks to DangerousCommieSubversive, who betas these chapters even though she doesn't watch the show. Thank you!!
> 
> Warnings: Blood, gore, excessive graphic violence, minor character death, angst.

Stiles

Stiles trudged through the Hale woods, alone. He carried everything he'd wanted or needed to bring with him in a large backpack on his shoulders, the weight hardly bothering him, even though it weighed almost two hundred pounds. His wolf was howling at him in complete misery. He wanted more than anything to go back to the Hale house and rub himself all over Derek, join his pack, and beg Derek to be his mate.

Stiles knew better. Derek already had a mate, and the agony of seeing Derek so happy with Isaac made him physically ill. Despite anything he told himself, his wolf pined for Derek, completely convinced that Derek was his mate, the one he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. Stiles wondered which god was currently laughing their ass off about that particular joke, and vowed if he ever found out to curse them every day for the rest of his life.

Not that that would be very much longer. He was planning on going as far into the preserve as possible, and then camping out until his wolf either gave up on having Derek, or pined itself to death. Before he'd become an alpha, he would have thought that was all over-romanticized bullshit, but the reality was surprisingly painful.

A howl interrupted his dark thoughts. He instantly knew it was Erica, and she was in trouble. _Help pack!_ His wolf cried out, and he shoved it back down violently. They weren't his pack any more. It wasn't his job to protect them, it was Derek's. They'd be fine. He continued deeper into the preserve, ignoring the fact that his feet started angling him west so that he was closer to Erica.

The wind shifted, bringing the smells of earth and warm cinnamon. Isaac. It was almost immediately overpowered by the smell of blood, and the instantly offensive musk of an angry rival Alpha.

_Isaac!_

Something snapped inside Stiles and he turned towards the scent, howling a challenge as he ran faster than he ever had in his life. If he challenged the bitch as an Alpha, it might distract her enough to save Isaac's life.

He followed his nose and ears and the wildly pulsing thing inside him that said his pack was in trouble, get to then now. He leapt over bushes and brambles and tree roots with a grace that would have been shocking if he'd been paying attention to anything except going faster. It felt like years, but had actually been less than five minutes before he saw churned mud and blood and the stench of Alpha became almost overwhelming.

There was a woman standing over Isaac; feral and rabid, and Isaac's blood was dripping off her claws and out of her mouth, and his brain was screaming _too much blood, too much blood!_ while his body kept up his momentum and slammed into her as hard as he could, sending her flying across the clearing.

He dropped his bag, almost surprised he'd carried it all the way here, and ripped it open, his hands closing around the leather handle of his baseball bat. As much as he wanted to stop and see if Isaac was still alive - he was, he was, he had to be - he knew the Alpha was the bigger threat. She was pushing herself up from the ground, and he had time to register dirty, tattered red hair and redder eyes before he swung the bat as hard as he could and was rewarded with a hideous cracking noise and her howl of pain.

He was distracted for a moment after that by the scent of Derek and his wolf howling for its mate, and the surge of instinct to kill the alpha female and lay it at Derek's feet, _look at me, I'm such a good mate, choose me,_ that he missed the female launching herself up and coming at him. Her claws dug into his flesh and he howled with the pain and the smell of his own blood. He brought up the bat between them, keeping her snapping teeth away from his throat and shoving her away from him, ignoring the way her claws twisted inside him before wrenching free.

Derek was a complete wreck behind him, cradling Isaac's broken body and crying, saying, "You'll be alright, it's okay, I'm here," over and over in a way that made Stiles realize there was no hope. Isaac was dying. Instead of being happy - there would be no one between his mate and him any longer - his wolf went ballistic. This female hurt his pack, hurt his mates, and Stiles would end her for that.

He blocked out the sounds of pain Isaac was making, blocked out Derek's pleas and sobs, blocked out his own pain and misery, and let the wolf consume him. He dropped the bat and leapt for her, his fangs extending and dripping venom. She howled at the sight of him.

"You! You killed my brother? A human?! A fucking human who uses silver and wolfsbane and rips my brother's power away for his own? I'll kill you! I'll rip your entire pack apart, and it won't be quick like the first one I killed. I'll rip their insides out and watch them die slowly, like the crippled one. And I'll leave you alive to watch them die before I rip your throat out!"

If Stiles had been human at the moment he might have had any number off things to say about villains monologuing, or tell her he hadn't killed anyone's brother, just an oppressive Alpha who was as crazy as she was. His wolf didn't care about any of that, and just leapt on top of her, lashing out with his fists and feet and fangs, intending on ripping her apart and not caring at all how he did it.

She was strong, but he was stronger. She was rabid, and even when he gave everything over to the wolf, Stiles was a fucking genius, and he dodged all her attempts to disembowel him with ease. She was bleeding heavily, half her face ripped off from his bat, acid burns from the silver slowly traveling across her skin. She lunged for him and he caught her, twisting her arm in his powerful grip. He didn't have claws but he did have the brute strength of an alpha and he wrenched her arm around until it came out of the socket, pulling until he heard the muscles tear and she screamed, lips frothy with blood. He let go and she staggered, he kicked her so she fell off balance and crashed to the ground. A few well placed stomps of his steel toed boots broke her legs, crippling her so she couldn't get away.

Stiles made an ugly sound and stalked towards her. She was prey now, reduced to that state by his hunting prowess. She was his, and he was going to rip her throat out.

A pained wine from Isaac brought him back from the wolf's lust for revenge. Isaac was still alive. An idea gripped him, and he grabbed the broken alpha by her hair, dragging her over to where Derek sat, head bowed, Isaac's body cradled in his arms. Isaac was struggling for breath, the front of his shirt and body ripped open, bleeding everywhere. Derek had ripped his own clothes to shreds and tried to bind Isaac's wounds, the fabric the only thing that was keeping Isaac's organs inside his body.

There was too much damage, this would never work. But he had to try.

"Give me Isaac's hand." He growled, and Derek looked up at him with a completely lost look on his face, like he hadn't even realized Stiles was there.

Derek was in shock, obviously. He didn't move or even acknowledge Stiles after that one look, just went back to running his hands through Isaac's matted hair. Stiles snarled and crouched down, grabbing Isaac's hand in his own. The beta's claws were still out, which was good because Stiles had no idea how to force them out any other way.

He yanked the mostly dead alpha closer until he could reach her with Isaac's claws. "I hope you burn in hell, bitch." He said, and slashed Isaac's claws across her throat.

The light in her eyes guttered and died. Stiles kicked her corpse away and knelt down next to Isaac, his pants soaking through with Isaac's blood. Isaac's eyes were closed, so he gently pushed open one lid. Isaac shuddered and gasped, and his yellow eyes flooded with red. It had worked!

Except - except Isaac still wasn't healing. His breathing was slightly less labored, but there was too much damage. His body couldn't seem to put itself back together.

"No! No, no, no, no!" Stiles hissed, scrambling back up to his feet desperately, going for his bag. He'd packed everything he'd need, and he hadn't packed a first aid kit now that he had a shiny new healing factor, but he had packed a needle and thread to sew his clothes when they inevitably tore. If he could just find it - yes!

His hands were shaking as he bolted back down to Isaac's side. It took him six tries to thread the needle while Isaac bled out beside him. He finally got it and let out a relieved gust of breath before setting to work. Stiles' stitches weren't neat or clean, but they closed the yawning gaps in Isaac's flesh, and after a few horrible minutes, they stopped seeping blood. Now if only he wasn't bleeding internally, Isaac might actually make it.

They had to get away from here. He howled again, this time a call for Scott, because Derek was still in shock and Isaac was still in critical condition, and Stiles couldn't deal with this by himself.

Allison came instead. Stiles wondered how she's found them for all of three seconds before he remembered that she was an excellent tracker and he hadn't exactly been subtle running out here. Besides, Scott would have been able to point her in the right direction.

"Scott's dealing with Boyd. They - found Erica's body. Boyd isn't dealing well. Oh, Isaac!" She gasped when she saw the state the other boy was in.

"He's not dead." Stiles said quickly. “He needs somewhere he can rest and heal, but I don't want to move him very far."

"There's a good spot to make a fire a couple hundred feet from here." Allison said, pointedly not looking at the mangled corpse of the dead werewolf.

"Can you do that? I'm going to try to get Derek to help me move Isaac."

Allison looked at Derek, glossy eyed and looking half dead himself, then nodded and headed off to make the fire. Stiles reached forward tentatively, knowing there was every chance Derek would rip his arm off, even as his wolf was protesting, _safe, mate, hurt, help mate._ He snarled at himself and pushed his wolf away, hand coming down on Derek's shoulder with more force than necessary. Derek flinched, but didn't really register Stiles at all.

"Derek. You have to snap out of it. Isaac needs to get away from here so he can rest."

Isaac's name seemed to get some kind of response from Derek. He shook himself and looked at Stiles with eyes that were more than a little mad, but at least he seemed to see Stiles this time.

"Allison is making a fire. Can you carry Isaac over to it?"

Derek nodded and stood up stiffly, picking up Isaac like he weighed nothing, and held him against his massive chest. Stiles grabbed his bat and his bag and led the way to where Allison was waiting for them. She had gotten a fire going, and had opened the first aid kit she'd brought with her. Between Stiles and Allison, they managed to get Derek to lay Isaac down, clean up his wounds and wrap them, dress him in some of Stiles spare clothes, and tuck him into the compact sleeping bag Stiles had. Derek crawled in with him, and kept Isaac close to him, his ear right next to Isaac's mouth, as if he needed to keep hearing Isaac breathe to be able to breathe himself.

Once Isaac had been taken care of, Stiles went back to deal with the body. He was almost just tempted to leave her there for animals to rip apart, but if she was found, it would create a whole lot of work for his father to cover up, and he wanted to avoid that if possible. He dug a grave with his bare hands, because he didn't have a shovel and he didn't want to leave his wounded pack mates to get one, before throwing the corpse in and burying it again. Later he'd ask Allison to come back with him and perform the ritual to make sure the Alpha wouldn't be coming back to life, and burn the body to be safe. With that disgusting task over with, he went to a nearby steam and washed the blood and gore off himself, dressing in his last pair of spare clothes and burying the bloody ones.

He was exhausted by this point, and made his way back to the fire. Scott was there now, and he'd brought food and water and blankets for Allison. Stiles didn't ask, but he was certain that Boyd was with Erica's body, just as unwilling to leave her as Derek was to leave Isaac. Once he made sure Isaac survived through the night, he would have to go and help Boyd bury his mate, because it wouldn't be fair to ask Derek to leave Isaac to do it. It appeared that he had joined Derek's pack after all, even if this wasn't at all how any of them had wanted it to happen. He took a swallow from the water bottle Allison handed him, then lay down and pressed himself against Derek's broad back, placing his arm protectively around both Derek and Isaac, and fell asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter guys!!!
> 
> Warnings: still a little angst, language, mostly happy ending!!

Derek

Boyd left the pack two days after Erica's funeral. He'd never say it out loud, but Derek knew he couldn't handle the fact that Derek's mate had lived, while his had died. He'd given Boyd a formal letter of introduction and a list of packs who would take him in all over the world, as well as making sure he had Ganner and Rose's contract information in case he needed something and couldn't ask Derek for it. And he'd told Boyd that if he ever wanted to come back, he didn't have to ask in advance, just show up, and Derek would take him back in a second. Boyd had thanked him, hugged him stiffly, and left before Isaac even regained consciousness.

Isaac's situation had been touch and go. His wounds had been horrific, but with the boost in healing that being an Alpha gave him, his mate bond with Derek, and the thorough, if messy, job Stiles had done patching up his injuries, he'd begun to heal. Derek was getting really sick of seeing his mate critically injured. He refused to leave Isaac's side, falling asleep in a chair beside his bed, only eating when Stiles or Scott brought him food. He probably looked awful; he hadn't showered or shaved in days, but he didn't care. Isaac had woken up for a few minutes yesterday; they were hoping he'd regain conscious properly sometime in the next few days.

Stiles had been a near constant in Isaac's recovery as well. Derek didn't know how he'd ever repay Stiles for saving his mate. After all the angry words they'd exchanged, after Stiles had walked out on his own pack, Derek thought they were beyond reconciliation. But Stiles had killed the Alpha that had killed Erica, and saved Isaac's life by using his claws to deliver the final blow. Derek never would have thought of that, even if he hadn't been paralyzed with grief at the time.

Stiles had left Isaac's bed side to let his father know he'd reconsidered his venture into the wilderness, to get Deaton to come look at Isaac's injuries, and to get Derek food. The rest of the time he'd been here, either holding Isaac's hand or cuddling with Derek, like touching Derek was the only thing that could comfort him. Scott came in sometimes and sat with Stiles, but it never seemed to soothe Stiles' nerves as much as when he pressed his face against Derek's shoulder and just breathed in the scent of him.

Derek was a little ashamed to admit that he found Stiles touch just as comforting. He'd lost two members of his pack and his mate was gravely injured, but Stiles scent and touch made everything better. If he didn't know better he'd say that he and Stiles were forming a mate bond. He felt that same easy acceptance of Stiles that he'd always felt with Isaac, and he'd barely known Stiles for a month. There was just something special about the man - he was funny and brilliant and seriously badass and Derek was more than a little obsessed. He'd say it was just that Stiles had officially become pack, but Scott and Allison had as well, and he didn't feel the same way about either if them.

It wasn't like Derek didn't want to be with Isaac any more. They had a very deep, very special relationship, and he loved Isaac more than words. It wasn't so much a sex thing - sex was something he enjoyed from time to time but it didn't really have anything to do with the physical side of things so much as being a external expression of intense internal feelings. He just...might love Stiles too. Whatever the hell that meant.

Like all the feelings he just didn't understand, Derek decided to ignore it. Stiles' deep depression seemed to have abated, Isaac was alive and recovering, and that meant that everything was as right as it could get. He was still grieving the loss of his two pack members, but his most immediate worries had been soothed. It wasn't like Stiles felt the same way, or that it was going to be a problem any time soon.

Stiles had just come in the room, and set some food on the end table for himself and Derek, when Isaac made a noise, and stirred. Derek was instantly at his side, his hand curling protectively around Isaac's, his face close enough to Isaac's to see the second his eyelids fluttered open and his deep red eyes stared into Derek's own.

“Isaac, you're -”

“Marry me.” Stiles blurted out, cutting him off.

Isaac and Derek stared at him. Stiles turned bright red, ran his hand over his hair, tried to lean against the wall, fell, and scrambled back to his feet before stammering,

“Ah. I mean. I – well, would you – ah, you both – maybe, I mean. Um. Uh. Mate? Be mine?”

“...Stiles, it doesn't _work_ that way.” Derek said gently, but was surprised by an insistent and immediate reaction from his wolf. _Yes!_

“Oh.” Stiles face fell into the picture of abject misery.

“Derek.” Isaac said softly, “He saved my life. He could have just let me die, and been with you. Don't you think you should at least give it a try?”

“There's nothing to try Isaac. We're already mated. It doesn't go three ways.”

“Doesn't it?” Isaac asked. “I feel a connection to him – not as deep as to you, but it's still there.”

“You do?” Stiles asked hopefully.

Isaac struggled to sit up, and Derek had to help him. He motioned for Stiles to come over, and when he got within reaching range, Isaac yanked Stiles over to him by his belt loops. Stiles yelped and fell forward, arms landing on either side of Isaac, his nose bumping into Isaac's jaw. Isaac smiled, and then pulled Stiles in for a kiss. Derek stared in shock as his mate kissed Stiles deeply. Stiles was shocked at first, but then went for it, his hand coming up to cup the back of Isaac's head and going in with a bit of tongue.

Derek stared at them, expecting his wolf to surge in anger and possession, but he didn't feel anything. All he felt, watching them, was a warm sense of contentment. His wolf was _pleased_. He had the feeling that if he was actually able to be aroused by watching people, he would be seriously enjoying this. Derek could smell Stiles' and Isaac's arousal, and Stiles was really leaning into Isaac now, making these moans and grunts, because of course he wouldn't be able to be quiet in any aspect of his life.

Finally, Isaac pulled away, letting out a contented sigh, and resting his head on Stiles shoulder. Stiles was completely blissed out, and said, “Wow. That was – that – wow. Yes. Yes, I liked that.”

Then he looked over to where Derek was staring at him, and flinched. “And hey, you didn't even kill me, so that's something, right?”

Isaac snorted. “Come lay down with me,” he demanded, “Sleeping in a bed is weird, I don't want it to do it by myself.”

With Stiles' help, Isaac moved to the side of the mattress. He made Derek lay down next to him, and then made angry hand motions at Stiles until Stiles climbed in next to Derek, pressing himself against Derek's back so they'd all fit on the queen sized mattress. Isaac tugged Stiles' arm across Derek's waist and onto his own hip, and then relaxed completely, letting out a contented sigh.

“I remember doing this,” he said. “I know I was mostly unconscious at the time, but I remember you both holding me. It was really nice.”

Derek had to admit...it did feel good. There was something extremely soothing about having Isaac and Stiles pressed against him, and it wasn't entirely because they were pack. His wolf felt just as happy about Stiles being next to him as it did about Isaac, further supporting Isaac's notion that they were somehow supposed to be in a three way mate bond. Derek had never heard of something like that happening, but he knew that there had been cases in the past where one wolf claimed to be the mate of an already mated wolf, which usually resulted in a fight to the death.

This though...this was something different. This was a functioning three-way mate bond. Derek didn't even know what to do with that, except make a note to ask Deaton, and if he didn't have any wisdom, then ask Ganner and Rose to help him find some way to make it work out. Because he wanted it to work out.

“Come to San Francisco with me.” He said abruptly.

“What?” Stiles seemed surprised.

“We're leaving as soon as Isaac can travel,” He told Stiles, to which Isaac let out a derisive snort. “We won't be back for another year. I want Scott and Allison to come too, when they can, but I understand it is going to be harder for them. But come with Isaac and me – come live with us. I have friends in San Francisco who can help us figure this,” he gestured to the three of them, “out.”

“Do you want to figure this out?” Stiles asked, in a hoarse whisper.

“Yes.”

Stiles' whole face lit up in a smile brighter than any Derek had seen on him. Then his grin turned sly and he said, “So...did you just propose to me?”

Derek didn't know what to say, but Isaac answered him.

“Yes. We did.”

“Fuck. I'm seriously the luckiest guy _ever_.”

“Yeah, we know.” Isaac said, and all three of them burst out laughing.

And in that moment, Derek was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who followed this fic through! (and anyone who reads it afterwords as well - you're so awesome!!)
> 
> There *will* be a prequel and a sequel; I've got other fics I need to finish first, but look for the prequel one shot some time in January!!

**Author's Note:**

> Pack dynamics! I've read quite a bit of Teen Wolf fanfiction, and there are a lot of things that the fandom seems to have decided is generally true for pack dynamics. I've also added a bit of my own stuff. I've tried not to copy from anyone directly, but I'm sure I've been influenced by the fics I've read. If I use something you specifically believe to be your pack dynamics idea, feel free to let me know and I'll credit or link to your fic.
> 
> Most of my pack dynamics were inspired by KouriArashi's work, but also a good bit by Idyll's work _(Sacred) In the Ordinary._ Check them out!
> 
> Relationships: This will become a Derek/Isaac/Stiles fic, so if you're secretly hoping that Derek will dump Isaac and find his true love in Stiles, well, that's not going to happen. Just a heads up!


End file.
